Restless Hero
by velociraptor52
Summary: Doyle is brought back to life by the Powers That Be to undergo a mission that could possibly get him killed at the same time, the Senior Partners assign Lindsey to the same mission. Takes place after You're Welcome in season 5. AU. Please R & R!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Doyle (though I wish I could). If we were allowed to own Doyle, then we would all own him…but, sadly, Joss Whedon owns him (though he did kill him. There should be a law, if Joss kills a character, we're allowed to own that character).

A/N: Well, this is the Restless Hero I've been working on ever since last year. It's grown…this is the prologue, though. I'm determined to finish this story, unlike some of my other stories. Anyway, read and enjoy! By the way, this wasn't beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine alone.

_**Restless Hero, Prologue**_

_Time seemed to stand still._

The walls circled the room in an elegant way that it seemed to be carved out of marble. An archway connected another room to the circular room with some steps acting as the bridge across both rooms. _A bridge across two cultures, two groups of different people fighting in the same war._ Atop the archway stood a bust of a large, pearl clock that seemed frozen. _Frozen forever in time as if it had lost its single essence, its motivation, to move on with time._

The walls gleamed golden with sunlight even though there was no place where direct sunlight could get through. The sunlight bounced off the walls and created a ray of light arching above the room. _A rainbow._

He couldn't imagine anything more exquisite than what he was seeing now.

_She stepped out from beneath the archway while behind her a river of blue light engulfed her curves. Her golden hair, which was bundled on top of her head and held together by two long sticks, was highlighted with streaks of blue and the sign of the Warrior hung as a pendant around her neck. Swarms of people huddled close to her as she made her way down the steps that acted as a bridge across two rooms. Anticipation hung heavily in the air. She tried her best to block the mindless ramblings of those close to her._

_She stepped on to the podium that only existed for her to use as her own. From her right pocket, she took out a small scroll and unrolled it flatly against the desk of the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began. The talking died down to the best it could. "I am sure you all know what happened here." Time had been forgotten; she didn't know how much time had passed. All she knew was that they had regrouped the best that they could and those who died were laid to rest by the tears of their comrades. "They destroyed our Sacred Clock. I am sure all you know the Sacred Clock kept time for us here, for time is sacred in our world. However, when they destroyed the Sacred Clock, they took what gave life to the clock, the essence of time itself: the Pendent." Waves of gasps skittered through the crowd. Someone shouted out, "The sign of the Warrior!" Without giving off a sigh, she continued, "The sign of the Warrior is merely a sign. It is not a pendent and never will be. It is a sign for hope that our Warrior will come and save us from this place where time is forever frozen."_

A flash of light was all he could remember. The half-demon grimaced with pain as the thought of the beacon came into his mind.

"What is it you want, lowly messenger?"

The two siblings, each slightly faded and translucent, stepped out from under the archway. Both had golden skin, ocean blue eyes, and both wore togas, but one had gold hair while the other had brown.

"Where am I?"

"You are here," the Sister said, motioning with her arms at the surrounding area. She said it as if it was a plain fact that anyone could see.

"Yeah, but I thought after we die we go to—"

"Heaven?" the Brother scoffed. "Heaven is a place merely invented for naive mortals to think that there is life after death."

"Brother, this messenger comes to us in a time of need," the Sister reminded the Brother quietly. The Brother and Sister glared at each other for a quick moment before the Sister turned back to the half-demon and said, "This is the place where departed warriors ascend to. You are one of those departed warriors despite being a messenger."

"How?"

"You gave your life to save those half-breeds. They are in eternal gratitude that you have saved their lives. You live on as a memory in the minds of others, but here that sacrifice was a message. It was an act of nobility, one far too noble for just a memory. No others will reach that nobility you have displayed, and no one will come here."

"Yeah, but…what about the others?"

"They will ascend into Heaven once they depart from their mortal world. You will not see them again."

"But I have to. Cordelia especially."

The Sister shared a quick glance at Brother before looking at the half-demon again. "Fine. Brother, explain." She stepped aside, welcoming Brother to fill her place.

The Brother nodded to Sister and took her place at the front. "Before you died, you were torn between your demon and human self, am I correct?"

"You are, yeah."

"Because you have risked your life when others could have gone in your place, we will reward you with a choice: return to Earth as a demon or human."

"There's a catch, right?"

"You will forget everything that happened. You will forget that whom you call Cordelia and that whom you call Angel."

"They're my friends though!"

"And time wasn't meant to be frozen. We all have our problems."

"Brother—!"

"Quiet, Sister!" The Brother nearly shouted. He faced the half-demon again and continued with a harsh tone. "Time was and is not meant to be altered, but you have shown great nobility, so therefore, we will send you back as either a demon or a human, your choice, to a certain time. You will find the Pendant to restore our time in here and once you do that, we will give you your memories back. Have we reached an agreement?"

Doyle considered this agreement and he nodded. "Deal," he said, and then added (after a long thought in which he thought that he could still hook up with Cordelia as human), "Human."

"It is done and human you shall be on the mortal plain you call Earth. Do not forget your task." The Sister waved her hand and blackness fell over the room.

A/N: Well, I assume that you finished the prologue if you're reading this and if you reviewed. This story is surely to grab your attention, Doyle lovers…hopefully. Anyway, I hope you do review if you've read the prologue. Feedback will be greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Doyle…or Angel, or anyone else for that matter. In fact, Joss Whedon owns all the characters, but sometimes mistreats them so that we may take care of them.

A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews! Once again, all mistakes in this chapter are mine, as this story wasn't beta-ed. Thoughts are italicized, but I think you know that.

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 1**_

The sun blazed. Heat moved off the ground in impalpable waves and birds silently flocked to a tranquil spot where shade was present.

The alarm clock wasn't what woke him up.

The voice did.

"_It is done and human you shall be on the mortal plain you call Earth. Do not forget your task." _

The flash of light quickly disappeared as Doyle reached for the broken alarm clock. He stared at it for a brief moment as memories of what had happened to him came back suddenly. _The flash of light…Cordelia…Angel… _Strangely, those names made no sense to him as he thought them.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to get a sense of what had happened and if the voice he heard was from a dream or if it was real.

With a sigh, he set the alarm clock back down, getting up from his bed. The blinds were open. Barely an inch of sun streamed through the window yet his eyes still burned from the sunlight. _Such bright light…_

_It will all disappear soon. Just another part of being human…I'm hungry._

He went to the kitchen, opening the fridge to find a surprising welcome of stale eggs, somehow the shells cracked open. With disgust, he turned away from the eggs, shutting the refrigerator door and set his eyes on the bagels that were set on the counter. However, the bagels were slowly but steadily growing mold. With a slight shrug, he went for the beer and tried to find a bottle opener. When he couldn't, he sat in front of the TV with defeat. After turning it on and finding black and white static instead of color, Doyle decided to sleep.

It was just then that the phone rang. The loud shrill echoed in his ears as he tried to find the phone among the mess near the desk in the office room. When he did find it, the phone stopped ringing. With another sigh, he returned back to the couch. His eyelids felt heavy and while he tried to think of something to amuse himself in the living room, a loud voice roused him slightly.

_"Do not forget your task."_

It was a simple voice, yet it also powerful and commanding.

Images flashed suddenly.

The pain hurt him and he cried out as he tried to block the visions.

Blackness.

Darkness shrouded him. Made him unable to see.

_"It will all be over soon."_

* * *

Angel sipped from the mug that held the blood Harmony had mixed for him. He grimaced. The taste was awful. As he set it aside to drink it later (_or feed it to the plants, _he thought), his office doors opened with a slight draft of cool air. _How come the front office of Wolfram and Hart get air conditioning and my office doesn't? _He wondered absentmindedly. Each minute that passed sent his office further into heat that felt like it had come from the farthest depths of hell. Memories of his previous time in hell after Buffy had stabbed him with a sword flooded his mind.

"Boss? Sir? Angel?"

_Harmony._

Angel suppressed an impatient growl. He forgot all about hell in a matter of seconds. Now he was faced with every person's hell: Harmony. "What is it?" he growled.

"Um…this just came in…from the mail guy. Said it was for you. Very important," she added as she handed her boss a folder. Angel couldn't tell though if the mail guy had said that or Harmony had just decided to say it. Whatever it was, it must be very important. There was no return address on the front of the manila folder. "That was it, so I'll just…"

"Harmony, wait," Angel called out. He set the folder down near his cup of blood. "Have we found a replacement for the mailman?" he asked restlessly. _Numero Cinco, _the previous mail guy, had left a deep impression on him. Both he and Cordelia had.

"We're looking. So far we have one, but since we don't here in Wolfram and Hart, I have to do all the mail service around here," Harmony scoffed. "It's not like I don't have a life—"

"You don't," Angel interrupted, "so why don't you go find something to entertain yourself? Mainly, being in charge of the front desk."

Harmony did a tiny salute, spinning around on her heels and heading out the doors. "Right, boss."

* * *

The Senior Partners were furious with him. All Lindsey had heard were bits of the conversation, followed by a loud noise that could only be described as both of them yelling at one another. The yells sounded like lions roaring. It was unbearable and not a pleasant sound to Lindsey.

Lindsey sat down in one of the soft leather chairs that were lined up against a wooden wall, like soldiers waiting to be debriefed. It seemed like Wolfram and Hart, but it wasn't. It was the Senior Partners office. Although what the office was for was entirely oblivious to Lindsey.

Another guy in a tweed suit sat opposite of Lindsey. He was holding onto a leather briefcase, and his hands were shaking constantly that Lindsey feared they were going to fall off.

"What are you in here for?" the guy in tweed spoke with a soft British accent.

"Um…well, it's complicated and a bit long. It takes exactly one hour to tell anyway," Lindsey answered lethargically.

"Nothing's too long for here. Here is where time is frozen. You never grow old and you never die."

Lindsey glanced at the guy in tweed. He smiled cautiously. "Is that so?"

"Do you know what I'm in here for?"

Lindsey didn't want to know. He didn't want to feel like knowing the other guy. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of the place and back with Eve.

"I cut off both hands of this guy and replaced them with animal paws. It was like magic, so simple."

_Maybe it was magic. _"Do you know any magic?" Lindsey asked suddenly.

The guy looked startled at Lindsey's question. "What?"

Lindsey shook his head, mentally berating himself for asking such a question. "Never mind."

Two doors that sat across from the large office blew open with a furious wind. "Come in!" a thundering voice commanded.

Lindsey sighed. "Well, this was a nice chat. I hope to see you again," he said cheerfully, waving to the guy in tweed as he exited the office. Secretly, he hoped not.

They were humans. Each wore a black robe and golden rope around their waist. Lindsey only wondered why. He had tried to ask them earlier, but was met by various yells from each. Now he was back in what seemed like a courtroom, but without the audience and the bailiff. The two humans were enough of a judge and a lawyer themselves.

"We have talked about the matter at hand," the guy on the right said. Lindsey didn't hear their names over the noise of the vortex that had sent him where he was.

"And we have decided on your punishment," the guy on the left finished. _Righty and Lefty should be easy enough, _Lindsey thought, staring at the ground when he wasn't staring at the two humans.

"At first we decided to send you to a hell dimension where you would be content and you would not remember anything that had happened previous this event," Righty began.

"But then we decided to send you on a mission," Lefty completed. "As you may know, this place is without time. The walls stand still. They are frozen and so are we."

"The only way to retrieve time here is the Pendant," Righty said.

"The Pendant gives those who hold it ultimate power and they are able to control time as they wish. Without the Pendant, our power is lost. We believe the Oracles might have it." Lefty scoffed at the Oracles' name. "All they care about it time."

"Your mission is to retrieve the Pendant and to restore our power," Righty explained. "The Oracles have sent their own messenger; he proves a challenge, however. Are you ready for this mission?"

Lindsey had held his breath ever since Righty had mentioned that they weren't going to send him to a hell dimension. He exhaled slowly, taking everything in as it came along in his mind. "If it's about power…" Lindsey trailed off. "I'll take it."

A/N: Okay, end of chapter 1. Chapter 2 will probably be posted sometime next week. Again, thank you for the reviews!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Doyle or any characters in Angel. Joss Whedon owns them.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry for such a late chapter. Once again, all mistakes in this chapter, if any, are mine.

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 2**_

_Why does everything hurt so much?_

Doyle gasped for breath. He realized he was on the ground instead of the couch, but had no motivation to get up. The pain from the obscure vision left him to hurt whenever he tried to think of what had just happened. The phone rang. Repeatedly it rang, giving off the same shrill sound that rang loudly in his ears. He had to answer it.

With a groan, he got up, ignoring the dizziness that washed over him immediately. He made his way to the office, finding the phone among a multitude of papers.

"Hello?" Doyle answered as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello, messenger."

It was the Brother of the Oracles.

Doyle was sure he could hear the Sister admonishing the Brother for calling him a messenger.

"What was that?" Doyle questioned, realizing that he was accusing the Brother for the vision he had received.

"That was a vision. As long as these visions continue, they will help you to retrieve the Pendant."

"They hurt like hell."

"That is because you are human now. In your previous life, you were able to withstand the visions easily. Now you are human and you don't have the demon strength you used to possess."

"Damn, I knew I should have chosen to be half-demon then," Doyle mumbled. Slowly, the pain began to subside from his body. "And what if I don't find the Pendant?"

"If you fail to find the Pendant, the visions will persist and you will die." Acute fear stabbed him in the heart, though his mind was preoccupied sorting out what he had been told. This was what he chose, to be human. The visions however…maybe it was the catch, besides the fact that he lost his previous memories.

"And what happens if I fail to find the Pendant and die?" Doyle asked the question that resided in his mind.

"Then the Pendant will still be in the grasps of the Senior Partners. They will have power and control over Wolfram and Hart and Angel." There was something familiar about the name Angel. Doyle couldn't place the name with a face though. "Good luck, messenger."

* * *

"My car's been broken into, mate," Spike insisted as he entered the office of Angel's. He sat opposite from Angel in a large red chair that he seemed to sink into.

Angel sighed, refusing the urge to stake Spike in his office. He was just about to open the manila folder when Spike entered. _And now I'm talking to him about his car, _Angel thought bitterly. "So?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow another one."

"Borrow, Spike? You don't borrow, you steal," Angel accused.

"That hurts. Just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean that I don't have feelings."

"Hey, you're right, Spike. Vampires do have feelings. Do you want to know what I'm feeling, Spike?"

"What are you feeling?" Spike queried curiously.

"The urge to stake you."

Spike instantly stood up. He walked backwards towards the door, not letting his guard down on Angel; before he knew it, he was opening the doors to exit the office. "Now, sire, let's not work be the cause of our stress, hmm?" he suggested cautiously.

"Get out, Spike," was all Angel could say before turning his attention to the folder.

Spike nodded. "Right," he mumbled, clearly hurt by the sudden demand.

Angel sighed. Finally he was alone. He reached for the manila folder when his office doors opened again with a sudden burst of air.

"Yo, boss!"

Angel sighed once more. "Yes, Gunn?"

"I've got a new client on board. I was wondering if you'd like to review his resume before we go on trial."

"Not at this time, Gunn."

"Angel?"

_Fred…_

Judging by the sound of the footsteps, it was two people. Angel guessed that it was both Fred and Wesley, and he was right.

"What is it, Fred?"

"I've got this magnificent idea for a machine that can help you out in the office," Fred began and she started to ramble about the design, all while Wesley was interrupting with either "That won't work" or "Angel doesn't need that".

Angel tried to suppress the urge to kill them all; he was doing a very good job. With the soul intact, he didn't want to feel guilty about killing someone and, plus, he didn't want to not have any friends at Wolfram and Hart.

Lorne came in next, cheerfully greeting Angel.

Spike was the last to join in on the party, arguing again that it was Angel's car that had been broken into, not his own. He complained loudly that he needed a new car, he was confusing Angel's car for his.

Because Angel couldn't take the noise anymore, he shouted abruptly, "Quiet!"

The room that was once filled with jovial conversations was now hushed. All Angel could hear was the quiet heartbeats from his friends save Spike. Lorne's eyes journeyed to the ground and he refused to Angel at eye level while Fred frowned slightly. "Sorry, Angel. I'll leave," she offered, turning to leave.

"No, wait. It's not your fault, Fred," Angel spoke. Fred stopped, turning back around.

Angel grinned slightly. _Darling Fred, _he thought before turning his attention back to his friends. Some stared at him, while others, like Lorne, stared at the ground. Yet, they all expected to hear a reason of why had he shouted at them. "I'm sorry," Angel began rather hesitantly. "It's just that I've been dealing with so much stress lately and everything's been happening all at once…with Cordelia waking up again and…" he paused, searching for the correct words to use. "I don't know how to say this, but Cordelia died…I don't know how, she just did and…" He trailed off, raising his head to look at the shocked faces of his comrades around him. Spike merely looked bored and broke the lamented silence when he said, "Can I go now?"

Fred gasped. "Cordelia's…?" she couldn't bring herself to say the word.

Angel nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "She is."

* * *

The rest of the day, by Angel's standards, went pretty well. It was quiet for most of the time, the only real noise being only when visitors and co-workers who worked at Wolfram and Hart popped their head into the office, requesting that Angel do something at once. Angel obliged unwillingly, as he set the manila folder back down on his desk at each offer.

Fred stopped by once, crying. As tears poured down her rosy cheeks, she told Angel that she couldn't imagine Cordelia was dead. "She was right there. She was alive, Angel, I saw her. We saw her. How could she be dead?" Fred sobbed against Angel's chest. Angel hugged her comfortingly.

By the end of the day, Angel was naturally exhausted. He cleaned up his desk, either putting papers away in drawers or throwing them away. Angel took one look at the manila folder that had sat on his desk all day. He knew that every manila folder that came in for him was either another offer from a 'reformed' demon clan, or an offer from Harmony that she should get a raise. Angel threw it away, along with any other paper that seemed highly suspicious of being an offer.

A/N: Well…there you have it. Angel broke the news to his friends (which, in my opinion, should have happened in the show). Doyle learned that he might die from the visions. And Lindsey will appear in the next chapter, I promise.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Do I really have to put these in every chapter? Can't I put it in one chapter? Okay: Angel isn't mine. Joss Whedon owns everything.

A/N: I'm deeply sorry for not updating in at least two month. Real life (a.k.a. school) has decided to knock on my door and keep me preoccupied from writing fanfiction (once summer starts, however, real life will leave me alone). Once again, any mistakes you find in this chapter are mine.

FalconWings14: Cordelia died from a coma. In season 4, she gave birth to an adult woman/goddess called Jasmine, and fell into a coma from the birth. In season 5, Wolfram and Hart (when Angel began working there) watched Cordelia just in case she woke up. In episode 12, she did, though it was her spirit instead (she died earlier, the Powers That Be sent her spirit down to make Angel get back on track, and at the end of the episode, Angel got a call from someone informing him that Cordelia had never woken up, and had died).

**_Restless Hero: Chapter 3_**

Lindsey awoke. Wherever it was, though, it wasn't in bed with Eve. It was another place that seemed strangely foreboding, like he had seen it before.

There was an elevator and stairs. There was a kitchen, a living room and a bedroom. It seemed pleasant, Lindsey thought as he made his way to the kitchen. But why the Senior Partner's sent him there he had no idea.

A sudden noise made Lindsey turn away from opening the fridge, and to look around at anything that might have caused the noise. Lindsey peered around the corner, catching sight of the elevator moving down.

_So, someone's in the elevator, is that right?_

A guy with dark hair, a slightly pale face, and a wardrobe that looked like he would wear it out for drinks at a pub stepped out from the elevator. "Angel?" he spoke with a soft Irish brogue.

Lindsey wondered who this strange man might be and why the hell he was in his home, if it was a home. On the other hand, Lindsey thought it wasn't a home, but more like a bat cave. Now that this man entered his home, it was time to get defensive.

"Hey!"

The guy with dark hair turned around, squinted at him, and said, firmly, "You're not Angel."

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not," Lindsey implied, grinning "But you are in my home," he continued, "and I don't take kindly to strangers entering my home."

"This isn't your home, it's Angel's," the dark-haired guy argued.

A frown immediately fell upon Lindsey's face. The glint in his eyes vanished, being replaced by a sinister look. "You know Angel?"

"Why shouldn't I know him? He's my friend." The guy hesitated, and then asked, "Why? Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I know him," Lindsey replied, swallowing his fear. "I'm Lindsey." He offered his hand to the guy.

The guy glanced at the hand, and then looked back at Lindsey. "Doyle," he said, shaking Lindsey's hand briefly.

"Doyle?" _Who was Doyle again? Oh, right, that half-breed. _"I thought you died. How come you're here, alive and speaking to me in my own home?"

"Like I said, this isn't your home. It's Angel's. And another thing, I didn't die."

"Yes, you did. You died and sacrificed your life for Angel. And then that son of a bitch went and cut off my hand, while I was promoted to the top position of Wolfram and Hart."

"You work for Wolfram and Hart?" Doyle asked cautiously.

Lindsey sensed the fear in Doyle, and grinned. "I do, and I enjoy every minute of it."

* * *

Lindsey woke up with a sudden gasp. "What the…?" He trailed off, looking at the clock. It read 2:00. Then he peered out of the window. It was still dark. _2 o'clock in the morning. This is just great._

The dream had been so vivid; it seemed real. Lindsey couldn't believe that Doyle was back, even if it was just a dream. _Dead guys don't return from the dead. They stay dead._

_Oh well, while I'm up…_

He got up from bed, making his way to the kitchen, all the while cursing under his breath at the Senior Partner's.

Once Lindsey entered the kitchen, the sudden dream came back at him, and he muttered under his breath, "Doyle can't be alive. It was just a dream, that's all it was. He isn't alive, he's—"

"He is," a loud voice appeared. It seemed to surround Lindsey from all sides. One of the two men from the Senior Partner'smaterialized before him. "He is alive and you have to kill him."

Lindsey was startled at this sudden voice and figure, and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

The figure ignored the instant demand and continued. "The visions we have given to you will lead you to him. You have to kill him, or else we will lose ultimate power, as will you."

The agreement of finding the Pendant and gaining power came back to Lindsey as he nodded. "I'll do whatever it takes…wait," he added hastily and startlingly, "visions? Why visions?

"These visions will lead you to find the Pendant, you fool. The Oracles have it. We have to take it back. The Powers That Be also supplied Doyle with visions. Those visions he has are a lead to you so he can kill you. You have to be prepared to face him and kill him if he does find you."

"Oh," Lindsey muttered. The sudden realization that this wasn't a game shocked him as he tried to come to terms with the recent information.

"Good luck," the man offered as he started to fade away.

"Hang on! One question: what was with the dream?"

The man clad in the black robe stopped fading, and started to return to a corporeal state. "You two are connected by the visions. There can be only one, who has them, but there are two now, and when that happens, they have the same dreams. They appear to each other in dreams."

"Like astral projection," Lindsey thought out loud.

The man in the black robe nodded.

"So that dream, the one I just had, that was real?"

Once again the man nodded.

"Can I kill him in the dream?" Lindsey asked, cheering up slightly if that fact was true.

"You can not," the man answered minimally

Lindsey nodded, resting his head in his hands. He was deeply confused, and he felt like crawling back into bed to sleep.

"So what happens if I don't get the Pendant back?" Lindsey asked, looking back up at the guy.

"We will die," the man replied, and disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

A/N: Now Lindsey came back (I bet all the Lindsey fans are cheering), he has visions, and finally he and Doyle got a chance to meet (sure, it was in the dream, but the dream was real). So the question remaining is: will he kill Doyle? Will he be able to get the Pendant back? Are the Senior Partner's lying? Well, yeah, the Senior Partner's are lying. They're evil. Anyway, next chapter will be out as soon as possible (I promise! Real life is close to leaving as soon as school ends). 


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Angel isn't mine; Joss Whedon owns Angel and all the characters.

A/N: Well, I'm back. I'll try to update regularly from now on, and if I don't, you have the opportunity to e-mail me constantly about when the next chapter will be up:) yep, you have that privilege. Anyway, here's chapter 4! (Note: this chapter has slightly heavy angst from Angel…I just spoiled the chapter for you, didn't I?)

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 4**_

The dream had revealed novel information to Doyle. Information he supposed he had lost when he came back from…the dead. _So it's true? I died?_ He couldn't close his eyes and return to the safety of sleep; the dream plagued his thoughts as he reviewed it once more, with more passion to find out about the people mentioned in his dream.

_So Lindsey is a bad guy? Out to hurt this Angel character?_

_I thought the Oracles said that I would loose any previous memories I had before becoming human. Then why did I know Angel in the dream?_

Doyle sighed from the pain and anger that besieged him. The pain from the visions, and the anger from the fact that he couldn't figure out what was happening: the dreams, the people, the memories…

"Lindsey…" Doyle muttered. The attempt to sleep failed, and he stood, feeling the cold, hard wooden floor beneath his feet. Anger flared up once more as Lindsey's malicious grin came back to haunt him. "What the hell is going on here!" he roared, trying to soothe his rage before he destroyed the glaring clock on the bedside table.

A bright flash of light nearly blinded Doyle, and he found himself to be standing in the Oracles' room after the light faded. "Great. What did I do wrong this time?" he muttered under his breath.

"You did nothing wrong, mortal." A gentle, flowing voice filled the silence of the room. Slowly, a transparent image appeared before Doyle. Soon the image sharpened, and it became the Sister Oracle, standing a few feet away from him, smiling softly. White light outlined every curve of her body, and Doyle found it difficult to not stare at the glowing Oracle.

"Then what was with the dream, huh?" Doyle managed to ask, averting his eyes to the ground. The light shined immensely, sending stabbing pain in Doyle's eyes. "Plus the visions hurt like someone ran over me with a truck," he added. "While I would say this is as much fun as betting some money at the track, I can't really say that. It's like a nightmare, and I'm stuck in it."

"What is it with you mortals and gambling?" The Sister questioned. She was nearly grinning.

"And don't forget Guinness. The Irish love their drinks," Doyle added with a sly grin.

"Yes, I forgot that," the Sister acknowledged, and then a somber look washed over her face. "You share the thread for the visions."

Doyle's grin had faded. His brow furrowed and confusion filled his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"There can only be one who can carry the visions. It seems like the Senior Partners had cheated on that rule, as they gave Lindsey visions also. They cheat on everything," she added bitterly. "They have the Pendant; you must retrieve it unless you want them to have ultimate power."

"I'll do that, yeah. I'll do anything to get the Pendant."

"That's good, mortal." She raised her hand, as if to wave him off, but then she lowered it back down to her side. "Before you go, mortal, you must remember that Lindsey is dangerous. The Senior Partners have sent him to kill you. No matter what he does to you, you must not fight back because you can, fight back to live, but don't kill him. He may be valuable to us in the future; he's slowly redeeming for his past sins with Wolfram and Hart. Not soon enough, though, but eventually he will."

Doyle nodded, and insisted, "I can take him."

"I count on that, mortal, but for the sake of you getting killed and the Senior Partners gaining the power from the Pendant, please don't." She raised her hand again, preparing to wave him off.

"Just a minute, Oracle. Before I go, what was with that dream?"

The Sister lowered her eyes to the floor, as well as lowering her arm once again. "Because you two share the thread for the visions, you two also share dreams."

Confusion once again filled Doyle's face and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the Sister raised her arm and made a waving motion. Before he knew it, Doyle once again was back in his bedroom, lying on the floor though.

With a slight groan and a muttered curse to the Oracles, Doyle raised himself off the floor.

_"Do not forget what I said, mortal."_

"Yeah, yeah, I won't, you over-hanging, cryptic lady."

* * *

Angel hardly got any sleep at night. Each time he would close his eyes, either Cordelia or Doyle would fill the black space of solitude. He stayed awake by watching TV, and at one point watched the commercial Cordelia and Doyle made back in the early days of Angel Investigations. After watching about two hours of sitcoms that were hardly funny to him, Angel contemplated whether he should call Spike or Wesley. The former won, of course, and Spike was irritated and annoyed that Angel had called him that _he _hung up the phone after Angel had invited him to go the bar, or possibly the pub. Of course, Angel reconsidered going to the bar, as Wolfram and Hart would undoubtedly follow him to see if he rescued anybody from a vampire

He was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep. He didn't want to see the images of his lost friends one more time and relive the experience that made him wonder why Doyle had jumped. It wasn't his fight, it was Angel's, and while he knew that, he also knew Doyle was atoning for something.

Cordelia had talked to him, that's true; she had steered him away from what he felt Wolfram and Hart was like: magnificent. Though Cordelia had shown him that it was evil, he still felt lost at Wolfram and Hart, and without purpose. Angel knew a simple talk about the Shanshu and his mission wouldn't make him feel any better about working at Wolfram and Hart. He needed someone stronger, someone who could understand him…someone like Doyle.

"Doyle, why did you have to jump?" Angel mumbled as he re-winded the tape once more to the part where Doyle had said rats, not rates.

Wesley found Angel asleep at his desk around six o'clock in the morning. He had a cup of hot blood ready for Angel, with a mug of coffee for himself. He roused Angel before serving him his blood, and after Angel had sipped a little bit of it, the ex-watcher and ex-rogue demon hunter asked curiously, "What's wrong?"

Angel set his cup down, focusing on the blood that swished back and forth with the sudden motion. "I don't want to tell you."

"Come on, Angel," Wesley pressured. The ex-watcher in him became extremely worried over Angel taking a simple nap, while the ex-rogue demon hunter was wondering if a demon was doing this, and all the while, Wesley, the ordinary, human Wesley, was acting as a friend should.

"Wesley…" Angel warned. "I don't want to talk. I don't want to share my feelings."

"I'm your friend, Angel, and while I should not pressure you to tell me what's wrong, you're right, I am acting as any friend would. If you want to talk, then you can talk to me, you know," Wesley finished and stood, exiting the room.

"It's Doyle," Angel suddenly called after the ex-watcher.

Wesley turned back around. Curiosity masked his face. "You mean your friend who died before I came?"

Angel, who was now staring at the floor in interest, nodded. "It's Cordelia, also."

Wesley pieced the puzzles together and came to a conclusion.

"Her death," he guessed, sitting back down.

Angel once again nodded. He opened his mouth to speak; yet no sound came out. He tried to breathe; yet there was no air. He blinked his eyes once to clear his mind, and the tears were there. "Her death," Angel began, "got me thinking about her and before I knew it…" he trailed off and breathed in to calm himself. The tears were gone; his once beating heart was filled with heavy with grief.

"He had a life. He had a future. That simple light, the whitest light I have probably ever seen, snatched it away, thanks to the Scourge."

"Angel, if it makes you feel any better, Doyle is probably in a safe place away from the suffering of the world," Wesley pointed out. "If you think about it, he's probably in heaven right now."

"Or hell," Angel mumbled. "Wesley, those demons killed him. They took his life away with a simple machine built just because they are prejudiced against half-breeds. That machine was built by demons from hell. Doyle's probably down there right now instead of heaven."

"Angel…"

"I know. You're just trying to cheer me up. But it doesn't help because I think about the situation every day. What would've happened if I jumped instead of Doyle? I probably would've shut it off in time, or died and go to hell. But the facts are that I can deal with hell and whatever comes my way. Wesley, out of all of this, you already know what I'm talking about. I just want what's best for Doyle now that he's…and hell is not what's best for him. He's too…he deserves better."

"I understand that, Angel—"

"No, you don't understand, Wesley. You don't understand anything. Doyle gave his life just so Cordelia and I could continue to fight the good fight. What's best for Doyle isn't hell, Wesley, it's heaven."

Wesley took a moment's notice of consideration before speaking. "You just want what's best for Doyle…" Wesley attempted to soothe his anger at Angel. He knew Angel was stressed from working and sad, especially with the recent death of Cordelia, but it was no reason that he had to yell at him and chastise him about what's best for Doyle. "Angel, you don't know if he's in hell."

"Oh, I know, Wesley. I know."

A/N: Poor Wesley! Angel shouldn't have yelled at him…didn't I tell you there would be some angst from Angel? I'll try to tone down the angst from Angel in later chapters. Anyway, if you see that I'm not updated on a regular basis, you are free to send me e-mails constantly, asking me when I will update. By the way, happy 4th of July for all you Americans reading this! For all you Canadians reading this story, happy Canada day! (sorry for being a few days late)


	6. Chapter 5

**_Restless Hero: Chapter 5_**

Eve continued to cry. She sniffled a bit, dabbing her eyes with a wet and torn tissue that she kept ready by her bedside. Quietly, she began to sing the song Lindsey had sung her, and he had also convinced her that he wrote the song just for her. The song, though it made her somewhat content, hardly removed the feeling of loss for Lindsey.

She had put her dirty clothes in the wash; she cooked breakfast and cleaned up afterwards, and now she was moving to the room Lindsey and she once shared. The bedspreads were tightly packed together and it dangled off the bed, and inch from the ground. She straightened them out first and then she fluffed the pillows. The song inspired her to keep working, but it also made the tears threaten to return. Her feet gave away as she crumbled to the floor at the foot of the bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her shoulders heaving with sobs, muttering that Lindsey wouldn't come back. She buried her face in her arms.

"Honey! Eve! I'm home!" a voice echoed from downstairs. Eve gasped. She raised her head and stopped sobbing long enough to hear her name being called again.

"Eve?"

"Lindsey," Eve whispered breathlessly. She stood up quickly, straightening her dress and checking her make-up and hair in the bedroom mirror before journeying downstairs, just to open the door to the man she loved.

"Lindsey!" Eve shouted. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a long kiss before Lindsey pulled back, breaking off the long, gentle kiss.

He lifted her chin so their eyes met, and he stroked her cheek gently. "Eve…" Lindsey brusquely kissed her once again. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you even more," challenged Eve playfully. A devilish grin spread across her face as she pulled Lindsey inside, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Doyle woke up at eleven without the aid of a vision. He yawned and ran his hands down his face, wiping away any evidence exhaustion and drowsiness that could be visible. He pulled the covers back, feeling the warmth of the sun shining down on him through the window

"Might as well get up," he muttered as he stood from the bed rather reluctantly. His first initiation was to make coffee, but then he decided to take a shower. After he found no conditioner and shampoo, he made a mental note to go to the nearest grocery store.

There was no coffee. No drinks except for a single carton of stale orange juice. "Okay, I guess I'll pick everything up at the grocery," Doyle said rather curtly, slamming the refrigerator door shut.

Having nothing to do, Doyle got dressed in what he supposed were clean jeans and a shirt. He had a car. Doyle thanked the Powers That Be for that move. He managed to find the keys to the car amongst the piles of paper gathered on the desk.

They hadn't supplied him with a map. From the looks of things, Doyle decided that he resided in a vast city full of towering buildings, people doing various illegal activities, and clubs that were lined up in a row block after block. A distant sign read Welcome to Los Angeles. Doyle decided he was in Los Angeles, the city of angels, or angel, considering if he got lucky that afternoon and met a gorgeous girl.

The grocery store was in the right spot, after all. It looked very dilapidated and run-down. The painting that seemed as if it was painted hastily on the cement wall was peeling, and bits of concrete were chipped at the corners. One wall down the alley that was next to the store was smeared with what looked very much like blood. This sent a shiver up and down Doyle's spine. He wanted somewhere to park his car, not someplace where a gang fight had tooken place. There were limited parking spaces in front of the store and Doyle luckily had found a space about a block down from his destination. Doyle decided it was better; he needed some exercise anyway. Unless, of course, he had another vision that sent him spiraling down to the ground in a blur and he had to be carried to the morgue from dying of a head injury. His exaggeration didn't come true, however, as Doyle, huffing and puffing, reached the front doors of the store.

Once inside the store, Doyle turned his attention to the aisles stocked with various types of food. He had made a mental note to pick up eggs, bacon, more beer, a beer opener, a paper shredder (even though he knew the grocery didn't have them, he kept his hopes up. Something about cleaning the papers from the office by hand frightened him.), shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap.

The money was a serious problem. Doyle found his wallet near empty, cleaning it out just for a carton of a dozen eggs, beer, shampoo, and conditioner. When most people would complain that it wouldn't be enough, Doyle found it enough for him. He thanked the Powers That Be for helping him and giving him money.

"I need a job," he complained angrily after he found that his car failed to start. Grumbling, he got out and kicked the front bumper exasperatedly, wishing for it to start, and tried starting the car again. It was unsuccessful. He gathered the items he had purchased and began walking home, which was only seven or so blocks away from where he stood.

Doyle had managed to go an hour without any visions, but he thought about it too soon. Another vision sent him crashing to his knees and dropping everything in his hands: the eggs, the beer, the shampoo and conditioner.

Doyle bit back a scream. The vision ripped inside his head, giving him images that flashed quickly for a second or two. A name appeared against a dark, thunderous sky. Wolfram and Hart, Doyle had read. Faces, then, demons and a pendant. Then suddenly the vision stopped, as well as the acute pain. Now the only noise was Doyle's consistent breathing and murmurs from people that had gathered around him.

"Call 911!" Somebody shouted. It sounded very distant, like Doyle was on one side of a football field and the 'somebody' on the other. Blackness slowly filled Doyle's vision as he faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Boss?"

"Harmony," Angel greeted the energetic young vampire. "What's up?"

"There are some guys here to see you. Said that it was very important."

"All the guys I see are very important," Angel informed.

"Yeah, but these guys are very, very important. Black business suits important."

Angel sighed and contemplated the decision. "Send them in."

Harmony widely grinned, exited the room, and then re-entered the room in a matter of seconds, bringing with her five guys all dressed in black slacks, black jacket, black tie, and black sunglasses. The shirt they wore underneath the jacket, however, was white. "Here they are," she announced before leaving.

"So…what do you want?" Angel asked.

One of the guys, tall and robust, stepped forward from the line and said in a monotone voice, "We have the Pendant, the essence of time and power. We talked about relocating it to a safer inhabitance. We received word that it is the target of at least two people and—"

"Sure," Angel quickly agreed. "Move it to another location and make it safer so I don't have to end another apocalypse. Do that."

"What should we do when we find them?"

"Kill them."

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Lindsey whispered to Eve as she quietly led him down a vacant hallway.

They hadn't seen anyone else in the hallway or the wing they were in, but Lindsey didn't take that as a sign of good luck. If anything, it was more of bad luck, because then some one could come down the hallway, see him, and send him back to the Senior Partners so quick even before he could say 'Magna Carta'.

He thought too much into it. _That's it. No more thinking. _

"I'm sure about this, Lindsey! We haven't seen anyone for at least ten minutes. Come on!" she whispered impatiently, tugging on the sleeve of Lindsey's shirt when he wouldn't budge. "Lindsey!"

But Lindsey wasn't paying attention. A door with an engraving of 'Artifacts' held his attention long enough to completely ignore all around him except for a distant buzz that seemed to pulsate from the door.

"Lindsey!"

A sharp punch made him return back to his mind quickly, along with the fact that he was now doubled over in pain. Eve had just punched him in the lungs. _Eve just punched me? _Lindsey thought, surprised at this fact. "I'm listening, baby," he said hoarsely as he tried to compose himself the best he could.

"Come on," she said after a moment, motioning with her head to the direction of her room.

Lindsey nodded. The door would have to wait for later.

A/N: Chapter 6 will be out tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Here's chapter 6! Enjoy!

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 6**_

Everything in his vision was white. The walls gleamed white like a pearl, radiating softly as the light touched it. The ceiling also reflected the light, sending it flowing down upon him as he squinted against it. His clothes were also white, as were the sheets.

"Am I in heaven?" Doyle mumbled, raising a hand to his head to rub the pain that throbbed in his forehead.

There was a slight chuckle and someone spoke quietly.

Then a young lady came into his view. Her hair was light blond that hung down in curls, curving around her face, and she had dark green eyes that nonetheless flashed with amusement as she smiled. _God, she's beautiful. Her smile reminds me of…wait a minute…_

"Harry?"

"Hi, Doyle," Harry greeted. Her wide smile faded, replaced by a slight grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I never thought I'd find you here. The others told me you were dead. I didn't want to believe them at first, but when it sunk in I…I moved to the nursing field. That took me nearly forever. After what happened with Richard and you…well, what's past is past. How did you get back?"

"Um…" Doyle was lost. This nurse actually knew him. Who were the others though? _Forget about the others, boyo, who's Richard? _"Nice to see you too…I think," he added uncomfortably.

"How did you get back?" Harry pressured.

Doyle shrugged earnestly, and answered, "I don't know."

"Very funny, Doyle. I know you're only half-demon and half-human. Now tell me the truth: how did you get back here? From the dead?"

"I just told you I don't know. I don't know how I got back, I don't know the others or Richard, and I don't know you."

The amusement on Harry's face fell, and bemusement masked her eyes as her brows furrowed. "What do you mean you don't know me? You said my name."

"Yeah, that's on your nametag," Doyle said and pointed to her coat that had a strip of white masking tape marked with large block letters 'Harry P'.

"Oh…well, I guess that would explain it. Listen: in a few hours you're going to be moved somewhere…special that is more suited to your needs. It will be safer than here at this hospital." Harry bit her bottom lip, willing not to cry in front of Doyle. "I'll see you around," she finally said and exited the room.

* * *

In the hallway that was full of pedestrians, Harry found the payphone. She inserted some coins and dialed a number, picking up the receiver. A few rings, and there was a 'Hello?' on the other side.

"Angel?"

"Harry."

There was a slight pause before Harry asked sorrowfully, "How are you holding up? I heard about Cordelia and…"

"I'm—I'm doing well."

"You're lying."

"I am?"

"Angel, when you say that you're doing well, you always are lying. So, how are you holding up?"

"Not so great," Angel replied hesitantly. "Cordelia's death got me thinking about Doyle and…well, you know the rest."

"Yeah, I do. Um…listen. I'm going to be transporting a patient to Wolfram and Hart's hospital wing. Is that all right?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. Oh, and Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"I think about Doyle too sometimes."

A few moments of sheer silence was the only response that came over the phone.

"Bye, Harry."

"Bye, Angel."

* * *

Angel hung up the phone just as Fred walked in the room; white lab coat draped over her shoulders, flowing down to her ankles, a pencil behind one ear and her glasses sitting atop her head skewed. Angel grinned. She looked adorable.

"We have someone joining us today," Angel informed, standing up from the uncomfortable chair.

"Really? What's his name?" Fred asked curiously, excitement evident in her tone at the prospect of a meeting a new person.

"I don't know. The person I talked to didn't say the gender of the person. Overall, I'm also guessing it to be a he," Angel agreed. "If—when he comes, can you tell me?"

Fred grinned softly. "Sure, Angel," she promised and turned to exit the room.

"Wait!"

Fred turned around.

"The others. If you could—?"

"I will, Angel." Fred smiled widely this time and finally turned, exiting the room, her white lab coat sweeping behind her.

* * *

Lindsey was on his tiptoes, careening his neck up to the vent that led to Angel's office, as well as other areas. "Why am I doing this again?" he whispered urgently to Eve, who was lying on her side on the bed, flipping through the pages of a glamour magazine.

"Because…"

Lindsey sighed. Getting a 'because' from Eve was as far he was going to get from her. Any other question would only force her to yell at him. Getting back to the subject, he tried as hard as he could to get closer to the vent, to at least put his ear to it, to do anything to listen to…

Silence.

Lindsey bit back a shout of glee and instead hopped off the chair he used for extra height and rubbed his aching neck tenderly. "They stopped talking."

"And?" Eve pressured further as she flipped another page. She chewed her gum loudly and the smell of perfume was very distinct from where Lindsey was standing.

"We have someone joining us today," he repeated what Angel had said. "A he. That was all I could get out."

Eve grinned. "You know, I could get used to having you around here. Ever since the Senior Partners sucked you up into that vortex, I've been unable to receive any news on what's happening around here."

"Oh…Eve?"

"Hmm?"

"What's behind the Artifacts door?"

"How am I supposed to know? Artifacts, I guess. Ancient stuff. Magical stuff."

_Is the Pendant behind there?_

"These agents are hunting for a couple of people that are trying to steal something of great importance," Eve said unexpectedly.

_Not for me. The Senior Partners sent me. They wouldn't send agents to collect me._

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Harmony came around earlier while you were taking a shower. She also said something else."

"About what?"

"About nail polish and Brad Pitt."

Lindsey groaned. Girl stuff. But the news about agents sent to collect a couple of people was new. It was time he had a chat with the Senior Partners, now that he thought about it.

A/N: I always though Harry would make a great nurse instead of a demonologist :) anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter 7 will probably be out sometime this week, at least before Friday.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews! Anyway, here's chapter 7!

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 7**_

The elevator doors opened, signaled by a soft _ding_, rather like a doorbell, but merrily, despite the worries and fears that troubled Doyle. However, he was astonished, his mouth was open slackly, his eyes were glazed, and Doyle craned his neck to look at the ceiling that towered over him. The thunderous noise of busy lawyers and doctors and other people with occupations in Wolfram and Hart was the only sound that entered Doyle's mind. He had never seen anything like this. The stature of the very name itself brought Doyle to think that the building and the people in it were of extreme importance. Doyle, for once, felt like he too was important. The illusion was shattered once Harry put her hand on his shoulder and led him away, guiding him, making him feel, once again, like he was a helpless puppy who was recently hurt and couldn't take care of himself or walk or follow. Doyle bitterly shrugged Harry's hand off his back, muttering defensively, "I won't get lost."

"I'm sorry," she said inaudibly and started to walk away. Doyle followed after Harry had gone at least ten paces. He wanted to memorize every arch of the building, every wooden tile of the floors, every step of the stairs—he wanted to stay.

"You will stay, you know. At least until the doctors know what's wrong with you," Harry said, pulling Doyle from his train of thought.

"What do you mean?"

"The guy who brought you into the hospital said you were having something like a fit, a seizure. But since you're back from the dead and you're human, I'm figuring it wasn't a fit and it was something else…something paranormal," Harry added.

_The visions are paranormal? I doubt that, _Doyle thought. Besides, he wanted to stay in Wolfram and Hart. No, not wanted, needed. He needed to retrieve the Pendant. He needed his memory restored. He wanted to be somebody, not a John Doe where everybody knows him but he doesn't know them, and where he's asked certain questions if he remembers this and that or him and her.

"Here we are," informed Harry, pushing the door open to what looked like a scientist's lab.

"Okay, so this is the hospital." _More like a lab…_"Where are the doctors?" Doyle asked curiously as he spotted some weird, unknown objects lying on a metal tray.

"This isn't a normal, human hospital. It's a hospital for the paranormal. The unknown. Fred runs it," Harry explained.

"Fred?"

"Fred's a…scientist and runs this lab. This lab will help you."

"Help me with what?"

"Whatever you have. I mean you're human. You shouldn't live your life in pain and struggle against whatever paranormal disease that you may have."

Doyle was about to argue that his visions weren't a disease. They were supposed to help him get his memory back if and when he retrieved the Pendant. Doyle shut his mouth, opting that arguing wouldn't help.

"Okay, I'll stay," Doyle finally resolved. "But I probably won't like it, you know."

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Doyle. You don't know how much this means to me. I'll check in on you next week, okay?"

Doyle nodded.

"And when Fred comes around, say that I sent you."

Doyle nodded once more, and Harry finally left.

There was a lot of time to kill, so Doyle decided to check out the unidentified medical objects.

* * *

Before Harry left, she decided to stop by Angel's office. When she opened the doors, she found Angel leaning against the window that gave a great view into the lobby. He was looking out, checking each person that passed by the window.

"Angel," Harry greeted in a monotone voice.

"Harry." His voice carried a similar tone.

There was a moment of silence, unsettling, almost, and seemed as if it would never end. It was a déjà vu, Harry realized, noting the similar greeting that took place over the phone back at the hospital.

Angel wasn't always an easy person to talk to, Harry always thought after each monosyllabic conversation. Mostly their conversations included how well they were, how were they holding up, a moment of memories of Doyle, and then it was good-bye, I'll call you later. Harry never guessed on how well Angel dealt with each client that supposedly came to him for help. Now, instead of sharing just memories of Doyle, it was time to share memories of both Doyle and Cordelia. Although, noticing the grim look on Angel's face, Harry thought it best to wait on sharing the memories for another time.

"I brought in the…um, patient. He's waiting in the lab," Harry informed.

"I'll notify Fred," Angel assured. "Is he all right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why bring him in?"

"He arrived at the hospital. The man who brought him in said he was having a fit of some sort and that he mumbled 'Wolfram and Hart'."

"Do you know him?"

Harry looked to the ground. "No, I don't."

"Did you get a name out of him?"

"His name is Frank," Harry answered, going with Doyle's favorite book _Angela's Ashes_. Doyle read it passionately, intrigued by the book and by the memories the author wrote down. They were still married when Harry had bought him _Angela's Ashes _for his birthday.

"What's his last name?" Angel's question brought Harry back.

"I couldn't get his last name out of him, so I just call him Frank."

Angel nodded and said, "You can go now."

Harry nodded and left the office, disbelieving of how she had just lied to Angel about Doyle.

* * *

It was afternoon. Lindsey suspected that everyone who worked under Wolfram and Hart's ceiling were now at home, greeting their loved ones, slowly sitting down to dinner at the cloth covered table, telling their wife about their day at work, telling jokes to their kids. Lindsey was right. He slowly wandered to the lobby of Wolfram and Hart. How much it had changed since he was away. He had taken a stroll to the guard's office, with Eve unaware that he had gone because she was taking a shower, and looked at the television monitors that revealed the lobby, Angel's office, Fred's lab, Wesley's office—the lobby had so much people entering and exiting the elevators that Lindsey had found it hard to keep track of what or who went or came. Harmony was back in her room—Lindsey had made sure of that—and he was now in the lobby.

A/N: What is Lindsey up to? Hmm…one can only wonder. Anyway, I'm going on a trip tomorrow (Friday). I won't be back until next Thursday, so this will be the last (but not final) update until next Thursday or Friday. By the way, if anyone is wondering why Harry went with the name Frank when lying to Angel, it's because in the book _Angela's Ashes_, the character…well, not really character, because it's an autobiography of sorts, but in the book the main character Francis was also known as Frank, and Doyle's full name is Allan Francis Doyle, so I thought of Frank…okay, I'm done explaining :)


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry for taking a long time to update. Anyway, to answer Imzadi's question: yes, the men who came to Angel informing him of the Pendent and the two men are referring to Doyle and Lindsey. Anyway, here's chapter 8! Italics signify a flashback, by the way.

* * *

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 8**_

Fred sat down at her desk in her bedroom. She wasn't quite ready for bed yet, it was still too early, but she wasn't quite ready to leave work yet. The incident that had happened the past hour replayed through her mind. She hadn't meant to tell Angel of the man in the lab, but knowing upon his name gave her the chills, as she had heard that name mentioned by Angel, in the same sentence with the word 'dead'. She closed her eyes.

_Angel notified Fred that the patient had arrived. He wouldn't give a name, but she was ecstatic, glowing, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she opened the doors to the lab. The patient's back was to her. He was inspecting a weird knife she had just dug out of a dead demon earlier, and she was pretty sure that he was curious about it because he was just about to pick it up when Fred coughed on purpose to make her arrival known to this man. The man turned around. He startling green eyes shocked Fred. She had never seen anyone with such bright green eyes as this man._

_"Hi," Fred greeted, forcing a smile. "I'm Fred."_

_The man continued to stare at her as he said with realization, "You're Fred?"_

_"Yes. Why?" Fred queried._

_"Nothing. Except when Harry said Fred I just naturally assumed man Fred, not woman Fred."_

_"Well, I'm woman Fred, hear me roar," she added and smiled, chuckling at her own joke. She stopped quickly once she realized that she was the only one chuckling. "You have an Irish accent," she wondered aloud._

_"Yeah? Is that wrong? You have an American accent, but I'm not pointing it out to you, am I?"_

_"No, I just—I just—you remind me…of a friend's friend. I saw a picture of him once on my friend's desk and you remind me of him."_

_"Well, appearances can be deceiving."_

_Fred grinned. "Right. Well, let's get down to business. Now, Angel told me that Harry said you had a fit and fell unconscious. She also said that you mumbled 'Wolfram and Hart'. Is that true?"_

_"I don't know. I was unconscious."_

_"Oh. Yes…well, have you ever had these fits before?"_

_"No," Doyle lied._

_"Okay, I see." Fred set aside the clipboard and the pencil she carried. "Well, I need to run a couple of tests on you before I admit you here to the Wolfram and Hart hospital. What's your blood type?"_

_Doyle shrugged._

_"I see. Well, before you do settle down here, we need to know your blood type. So if you can please have a seat…" Fred waved to the metal gurney, gathering her supplies._

_Doyle obliged, jumping up on the gurney, happy to be off his feet._

_"This won't hurt a bit," informed Fred, dabbing some liquid on Doyle's shoulder. "Well, it will sting a tiny bit," she amended as she carefully inserted the needle. Doyle flinched._

_"Sting? This hurts like hell!" Doyle exclaimed._

_Fred finally finished her work. "Now, it will take a couple of days, but we will know your blood type and hopefully what's wrong with you."_

_Doyle jumped off the gurney immediately, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth as he asked, "Do you have any food around here?"_

_"Not so fast," Fred warned, grabbing two small boxes from an opened drawer._

_Doyle turned. Fred was holding up two boxes of bandages._

_"Animal printed or stars and stripes?" she asked, grinning._

_Doyle had chosen animal printed, for the sake of it. He didn't really like it at all; he had just chosen one to make Fred feel that she was doing a good job. In all honesty, Doyle hated her techniques. Why Fred had asked him his blood type he had no idea. The sudden idea of running away from Wolfram and Hart suddenly felt like a good idea to Doyle, much to the objection of his conscious that if he should run away, he had no idea how to get to his home. _So I'll look it up in the phone book, _he thought, even though he had no idea what his phone number was.

* * *

_

_Fred had told the man that it took just a couple of days to run a blood test for a type. She felt guilty telling him that. If Angel wouldn't object, then she could get the news of who this man actually was and if he was once Angel's friend. The doors were open: a sure sign that someone had talked to Angel. Fred knew that Harry had talked to him. Since the doors were open, Fred spared no intention of knocking. She entered first. _

_"Angel?"_

_"Hello, Fred," Angel said monotonously. "How's the patient?"_

_"He's…doing okay. I…um, I took a sample of his blood. Since I don't really want to spare two days trying to figure out what's wrong with him, I was wondering—"_

_Angel had already said no. When Fred still rambled on, Angel said it again, curtly, "Fred, no."_

_Fred stopped talking and looked up at Angel._

_"I don't want to…taste human blood. You and I both know what will happen."_

_"But I need you to!" she exclaimed. She didn't want to mention that this 'man' looked like Angel's past friend Doyle, so instead she just said, "There's something unnatural about him. Like he's part demon or something. Angel, please," she begged. "For me."_

_Angel thought it over carefully. "Okay," he finally agreed. "But if something should happen…"_

_"I know, I know, stake you. I got it." She pulled from her pocket a bag of tightly sealed blood._

_"A little bit," Angel warned._

_Fred handed the bag over to Angel, who, in turn, dipped a finger into the blood, pulling it out quickly as if the blood had burned him. He brought the blood up to his nose, sniffing it, and then carefully licked it. The copper taste ran through his mouth, enflaming his vampire senses, but he made sure that his true form didn't come out. It was just blood. Nothing unnatural, nothing weird._

_"Its just blood," Angel said, wiping his hand on his pants. "Nothing weird about it."_

_"But…" Fred was sure that what Angel told her about Doyle was that he was half-demon. Angel, as any Fred knew, would distinctly differ half-demon blood and human blood. Fred faked a grin. "Thank you." She sealed the bag with blood in it and exited the office.

* * *

_

_Fred returned to the hospital where 'Frank' was staying. She hadn't told Angel that she thought 'Frank' was Doyle, fearing that it would only cause Angel to grieve more. _

_He was asleep. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Fred contemplated whether she should wake him up or not. She moved forward, closer to the sleeping man. She quieted her breathing and tiptoed silently to the man. He did look like Doyle. He had the same face as him, and he was pretty sure that Angel had said that Doyle was Irish._

_Doyle could tell someone was near. He could hear her breathing, despite the fact that she tried to be quiet. He opened his eyes to the peering face of Fred. Doyle suppressed a sudden shout of shock from her face being so near and instead sat up quickly._

_Fred gave a small shriek, dropping the bag of blood to the floor, along with her clipboard and pencil._

_It took only a moment before Fred kneeled to the ground to gather up her items. "I'm sorry, Frank," she apologized._

_Doyle nodded, and with one hand, rubbed the weariness and exhaustion from his eyes. "That's alright." And then, added as an afterthought, "Frank?"_

_"Harry said your name was Frank. Isn't it Frank?"_

_Doyle didn't answer._

_"I…um…checked your blood. It turns out that there's nothing wrong with you," she reported. "Isn't that right…Doyle?"_

_Doyle glanced up. He stopped yawning in mid-yawn, and noticing, closed his mouth. He gave a slight chuckle, and repeated, "Doyle?"_

"_That's your real name. Not Frank. Right, Doyle?"_

_"Hey, my name is my name. If Harry says it's Frank, then it's Frank, but if it's Doyle…" Doyle sighed, knowing that his charade was up. "How'd you know?" he asked._

_"I saw a picture of you with Angel and Cordelia. I mean, who could forget your startling green eyes?"_

_"I have startling green eyes?" Doyle wondered._

_"And an Irish accent."_

_"Well, I knew about the Irish accent, but the green eyes? Damn, I knew I should have bought a mirror," he muttered._

_"What?"_

_"Oh, it's nothing."_

_"You need to tell Angel," Fred continued. "He has to know."_

_"Angel?"_

_"Yeah, Angel, your friend."_

_"I don't even remember Angel. The Oracles said that I would loose any previous memories when I would be brought back," Doyle explained. "So for now you'll just have to keep it a secret." _

"_A secret?" Fred asked, and Doyle nodded._

_"Yeah. I mean, unless you want me to pretend that I remember Angel. It won't be that pretty, but I'm sure I can pull it off," Doyle reassured Fred._

_Fred grinned slightly. "It's all right, Doyle. I won't tell him."

* * *

_

_Fred once again walked into Angel's office. Even though she had promised Doyle, something about keeping that promise, actually keeping it, was hard to do, as she tried mentally to rehearse what she was going to tell the vampire._

_"Angel?"_

_"Fred."_

_Angel looked near agitation. Fred couldn't blame him. For one, she would've hated to be interrupted constantly. "It's about Frank."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I believe that he's…he's…Doyle. Frank is Doyle."_

_Something flashed in Angel's eyes: pain. Fred noticed that. "Doyle is dead," he said, stressing each word carefully._

_"But…"_

_"He may just be someone who looks like him," Angel continued. "But he is not Doyle."_

_From the way Angel spoke these words, Fred knew that it would be difficult to make him suspect that Frank was actually Doyle. She knew that she couldn't convince him, not even in a million years. "My mistake," Fred muttered hurriedly, heading out of the office._

She sighed exasperatingly, knowing that it had been wrong of her to tell Angel about Doyle. But she had had no choice. Thinking about the event again and what she would change if she could turn back time, she went to bed, closing her eyes again.

* * *

In the guard's office, Lindsey had seen someone enter Fred's lab. From the back, he couldn't tell who this mysterious man was, but his posture looked familiar. He knew that some of rooms had a camera connected to the walls, hanging up in the top corners where the ceiling met the walls. He also knew any guards who were in the watch room would signal an alarm of a mysterious man loitering around the room. Lindsey knew that long before he had even decided to roam the hallways of Wolfram and Hart. He was now able to slip past any door, any room, any camera, and not be caught. He made sure of that when he drugged the guards of Wolfram and Hart. Thankfully, some of those guards were vampires.

The lab was connected to the hospital. Lindsey hadn't been around Wolfram and Hart long enough to see if there was another entrance to the hospital, so he quietly opened the doors to the lab. He let the doors swing. Nobody was around to hear them. It was safe.

Lindsey looked around cautiously. Sometimes people had cameras up that were connected to their personal television. They were able to view their haven in which they worked in on their TV and also signal a warning of a mysterious man loitering. There were no cameras. He checked and re-checked every corner before finally entering the hospital.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this chapter! Sorry for the cliffhanger, though. I'll update as soon as I can. Now, since I have 32 reviews, I like to thank the following people who have taken their time to read and review (a lot of times, that is):

Moonjava

Insane Troll Logic

Imzadi

FalconWings14

Madamwolf

Thank you, guys, for reviewing every chapter! It brings a smile to my face (a huge smile, that is).


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a long time. Real life (a.k.a. high school) has recently intervened. I won't go into details and bore you, so here's chapter 9!

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 9**_

Doyle lay asleep, dreaming and wondering of his previous life. No memories came into his mind, and the more he struggled, the more the constant pain in his head grew until he finally decided to give up wondering and just dream.

At first, Doyle was sure that the hospital room had a visitor. There was silent wheezing from the corner. Doyle wondered if it was a mouse looking for crumbs left over from lunch, but as the wheezing drew closer, he wasn't so sure anymore. He reached slowly for the tall, heavy lamp beside his bed that acted as a reading lamp, but in this case it would be used as a weapon. Suddenly another hand latched onto Doyle's outstretched hand, and Doyle then decided it was time to wake up.

_So this is him! _Lindsey thought as the figure in bed sat upright quickly, startling Lindsey so that he dropped the golden lamp. He started to assume that the lamp was not made out of gold after it had hit the ground. A dent had formed where it had hit the metal bed frame.

Lindsey grinned as the figure reached for the light switch that suddenly filled the whole room with blinding, bright light. "So it's you!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah?" Doyle asked breathlessly. The shock of waking up to a slightly six foot man nearly scared Doyle to death…again. "Who're you?" he asked after he had caught his breath.

"You don't remember me?" Lindsey asked, and after Doyle shook his head, Lindsey then grinned. "In that dream, remember?"

Doyle stared at the floor, the memory of the recent dream he had had the night before coming to his mind. In the dream was an apartment, and in the apartment was… "Oh, now I remember," Doyle amended, his tone alternating to one of disgust.

"Yeah. What are you doing here?"

"Me? I should be asking you that, buddy," Doyle countered.

"Well, I thought you were dead."

"Was. Not anymore, though."

Lindsey remembered the warning from the Senior Partner's that the Oracles had sent this fellow to kill him. And now they were both in the hospital, in the same room. "I know why you're here," Lindsey realized.

"Why?" Doyle asked. _The Oracles said that the Senior Partner's sent him to kill me…still I should just play along. Innocent-like._

"You aren't getting that Pendant," Lindsey warned, his voice now low and threatening.

"Me?" Doyle faked a laugh. "I'm not here for the Pendant. I'm just here for the pizza and the Guinness. Not to mention the gambling."

Lindsey reached for the dented 'gold' lamp.

Doyle braced himself. "You aren't going to kill me," he said, although he was doubtful in that belief. The words of were no reassurance to him. Doyle still knew that this guy would hurt him, possibly even kill him.

"No, but you are, so I should just kill you before you do me in. Hmm…now that sounds like a good plan, doesn't it?" Lindsey swung the lamp hard at Doyle, who had instinctively grabbed. The lamp hit his hand, cutting open skin. Doyle suppressed a shout of pain.

"What are you talking about? I'm not here to kill you. You're here to kill me!" Doyle managed to say. The pain burned his hand like fire; it was intolerable.

"Nice trick. The Senior Partner's said that the Oracles sent you to kill me," Lindsey said. "So I guess that means that I get to kill you."

Doyle hardly had the chance to explain what the Oracles had told him about Lindsey, for he was pushed to the ground as Lindsey shoved the lamp at him. Doyle was sure someone must have heard the sound of a loud _thud_, but he severely doubted it.

Lindsey circled the bed, the lamp still in his hands, grinning maliciously.

Doyle had landed on the tiled floor on his back, which knocked the wind from him, and it had hurt like hell. He saw Lindsey raise the lamp, and Doyle rolled to the right as Lindsey brought the lamp swooping down to the ground in a wide arc, right where he had lain. The lamp scratched the white tiled floor, and Doyle grimaced, knowing that Fred would eventually find out about that.

Even though Doyle had completely no memory of fighting before, he did know one move that would surely get Lindsey to the ground. Doyle hooked his right foot behind Lindsey's right knee and pulled, not only causing Lindsey to be off balance suddenly, but also bringing him, and the lamp, falling to the ground.

Doyle took this as his chance to scamper to his feet. Lindsey struggled with what had just happened. The fallen, and now completely dented lamp, lay at Doyle's feet.

"You know, Lindsey, your plan? I don't think it worked too well," Doyle commented as he bent down to pick up the lamp. "It's over, this fight."

Lindsey finally got to his feet, laughing. "You know, you may have won this battle, but just wait until tomorrow night."

Doyle had the lamp raised just in case Lindsey came at him again.

"You still won't get that Pendant," Lindsey threatened as he walked out of the room.

A moment had passed before Doyle knew that he still held the lamp raised for defense. He slowly lowered it to the ground and rolled it under the bed, hoping secretly that Fred wouldn't wonder about it when she would come in the next day for a daily inspection. Doyle grimaced in pain as he moved to get under the covers of his welcoming bed, and in relief that he had won the nighttime battle, he closed his eyes, dreaming again.

* * *

Doyle woke up earlier than he had intended to. The clock on the bedside table read 6:30, and when he saw this, Doyle muttered under his breath about wanting to sleep in, and closed his eyes, wanting to return to the placid dream he had. When that failed, he decided to get up and get dressed in the clothes he had worn the other day, which were now laying at the foot of the bed, shoes included. He sat up gingerly, for the aches he had received were still painful, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The hospital clothes Fred had given him took away his dignity, and he was quick to stand, grabbing his clothes from the bed, going to the changing room. He wondered if they had a shower in the room complete with shampoo, and maybe even soap.

Doyle was lucky. After a quick shower, he was refreshed from the battle last night, and his clothes gave comfort to the sores he had received in the fight.

Now that he had taken a shower, the clock read 6:45. For some reason, his stomach was growling, and he wondered where breakfast was served.

"Oh, you're awake," someone commented from the doorway. It was Fred. In her hands she held a tray piled with various types of muffins, fruits, and little snack boxes of different cereals. "I didn't know what you wanted so I just…" She caught sight of Doyle in his clothes from the previous day. "You're awake, and you're dressed. Anything else I don't know about?"

"Well, I took a shower," Doyle responded, looking to the ground at the chipped area where the lamp had hit. _I also fought with this guy last night, _he added mentally, _I nearly got killed, I didn't dream, I didn't sleep well, and I am in some serious need for some Guinness…and maybe whiskey._

"I see that," Fred acknowledged as she set the tray on a cart, which was placed alongside the bed. "I also brought some newspapers that I thought you might be interested in reading. You know, catch up on the outside news."

"Thanks," Doyle muttered, sitting on the bed.

A moment passed before Fred asked, startled, "What happened to your hand?"

Doyle glanced down at his left hand, the hand he had used to catch the lamp Lindsey had swung at him the night before. A short cut trailed across his palm, from the base of his thumb to the middle of the palm. "I cut it, I guess," Doyle lied. He was hardly keen in telling Fred what had actually happened.

"Can I see it?" Fred asked, moving forward.

"No, it's okay."

"Oh," Fred murmured, sporting a crestfallen look upon her face.

"Honestly, it's okay," Doyle repeated, reaching with his other hand for the food. He was desperately hungry, and Fred was right in his way.

"Oh, sorry!" she apologized, standing up quickly.

"That's all right," Doyle reassured her, grinning quickly. He had accidentally grabbed what looked like a blueberry muffin.

"I'll go if you want me to," Fred offered, moving to the door. Her sullen face made Doyle want to hug her and comfort her. Instead, he did the next best think he could quickly think of.

"You can stay," Doyle said.

Fred turned around, and her face glowed while her eyes twinkled with happiness. A grin broke out on her face as she asked hopefully, "Really?"

"Yeah," Doyle answered after a moment. "You can stay."

* * *

"Lindsey! What happened to you?" Eve exclaimed.

"Nothing, baby," Lindsey responded innocently.

"Nothing? You look like you went through hell six times!"

"Nice metaphor," Lindsey muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Eve restrained herself to hit Lindsey. Instead, she just pouted, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. She was still in her nightclothes, when usually she would be showered and dressed by the time Lindsey awoke.

"I was worried about you. I woke up in the middle of the night and you weren't there. I thought you left me again," cried Eve. A few tears trailed down her face, staining whatever make-up she had applied on earlier.

"Don't cry," Lindsey said, nearly alarmed. He hadn't known that leaving Eve in the middle of the night would be so painful to her. Surely the time he had spent away from Wolfram and Hart after the Senior Partners captured him seemed long to him, but to Eve it was only ten hours. He was amazed that Eve cared so much for him.

Lindsey sat down next to Eve and gently wrapped one arm around her, squeezing her shoulder gently. Eve laid her head against his shoulder, now sniffing. "Don't cry," he repeated softly, caressing her pale tear-streaked cheeks while giving her a kiss atop her head. "Everything's all right." _I still need to get that Pendant. _"Everything will be all right."

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I'll try to get chapter 10 out quickly, if high school doesn't keep me busy, that is.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Okay, to begin with, school is evil. There. Ever since school began, I thought it would be easy: alas, with an AP History class and other classes that give out homework nearly every day, plus with choir and real life thrown into the mix, my life so far has been pretty hectic. So, I am so, so sorry to those who have been waiting nearly forever for the story to be updated! I didn't mean to get distracted; I'm one of those who get distracted easily by real life and by school. So, for my apology, I'm offering you two chapters today! I'll get working on chapter 12 soon, so just sit tight.

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 10**_

The Artifacts room was a tiny, cramped room. The cleaners who came into Wolfram and Hart daily to clean had once used it for storage. At least, that was what it had been before Angel came to Wolfram and Hart. He set the cleaners to work, inspected their storage closet, and ordered that they needed larger space. It wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, or soul, but more for the fact that if the cleaners were going to clean up the wooden tiles to shine, the staircases to gleam, the carpets to be rid of blood, then they needed more room to place their weapons: brooms, mops, pails, and soap. The room that had once held the artifacts was now the cleaners' closet. The then storage closet turned into the Artifacts room, and Angel had sold some useless artifacts off to other branches of Wolfram and Hart. He had sold a tarnished gold plate, which was once used by demons in 1848 to pan for gold, to the Wolfram and Hart office of Rome.

What Angel, or Lindsey, didn't know was a door concealed by the white paint. The black thin lines around it proved that it was, in fact, a door, but it could only be seen at a close distance. Since Angel, or Lindsey, or anyone else, rarely went farther into the Artifacts room, they had not viewed the door. Sometimes Wesley came in. Otherwise, he would just stay close to the front where all the rare artifacts were kept.

Even though Fred had told him to not wander Wolfram and Hart (she didn't want to get in trouble with Angel for losing the patient), Doyle's curiosity got the better of him. All he wanted to do was view the miraculous size of the giant lobby and watch people exit and enter the elevators, but somehow Doyle found himself in a hallway, one that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

He began walking down the hallway and, before he even realized it, he was standing in front of a wooden door. Large gold letters on the door spelled out the word Artifacts.

Something, or someone, was screaming at him to open the door. He wanted to; his hand hovered over the copper-colored round doorknob, but his conscience protested strongly against the action of opening it. Following, for the first time, his conscience's advice, he took a step back from the door, letting his hand drop to his side as he sighed shakily.

"Best not to open it," he muttered under his breath, turning away from the door and walking back down the hallway.

* * *

Night came swiftly to the occupants of Wolfram and Hart. The day was spent wandering the halls, going outside of the walls to view life with freedom, helping various demons and humans in situations that normally would require them to go to the police for help. Angel remembered when a man had come to him for help, insisting that his wife was missing. At first, Angel had told him that the police might actually prove to help him instead. It wasn't a job that involved demons or magic. Just a simple kidnap, possibly. That was until Doyle had asked a few more questions which raised Angel's keen detective skills and proved to him that it probably wasn't a kidnap.

After filling out another form that would probably enable him to hire a new secretary, Angel stood, capping the pen, and moved to the elevator. He pressed a button, which would hopefully take him to his room.

_That bottom one that's green takes me to the basement, that blue one in the middle takes me to my room, that purple one takes me upstairs, and that red one—I don't even want to know where that one takes me._

Angel remembered what hell had looked like. He took a good, long look at it after Buffy had pierced him with the sword that had also slain Acathla. Red wasn't his favorite color anymore.

For now, it was blue, because that was going to take him to where he could rest and dream of the possibility if Doyle hadn't jumped. If Doyle hadn't died…

* * *

The doors were locked.

_Well, damn._

And from the other side, too, as Doyle examined the doors closely.

_What kind of doctor would lock their patient in from the other side?_

Doyle recovered the slightly dusted dented 'gold' lamp he had rolled under the bed the other night. He brought it down on the door handles with all his strength he possessed. Still locked. He tried it again and again and again until he heard a tiny click resound quietly through the air. Doyle knew it had worked. He sat the lamp down quickly but quietly and kicked open the doors.

Thankfully, the doors that led to the lobby weren't locked, and Doyle snuck through them silently. His right wrist throbbed painfully, and Fred remembered the warning she had gave him when she had inspected the then sprained wrist. Apparently, it was still sprained. Doyle ignored the pain and made his way down the hallway he had passed through earlier in the day.

He arrived at the door marked 'Artifacts.' Doyle nearly shouted out in glee. Instead, he grinned widely and opened the door.

Doyle's blissful grin fell slightly as he caught site of the small room that enclosed only artifacts that would leave some archeologists to say that they're useless then and useless even now. Inexpensive artifacts, some would probably say, as they would make they way throughout the room. Inexpensive and chipped. Inexpensive and useless. Inexpensive and…

As Doyle passed a slightly troll sized statue of what looked like some sort of demon, he saw barely visible black outlines that surrounded an area of slightly faded white. Doyle made his way through the junk that surrounded him, and he grew nearer to what looked like a door without a handle.

He placed a hand on the door.

_I've been watching too much Charmed, _he resounded, having seen a garbled episode of Charmed one Sunday night at his house. At least, until the cable thought it best to break down only 15 minutes into the episode. _Or possibly The Twilight Zone. Maybe that could be it._

He wanted to get some feel of what might be on the other side of the door: dread and death, or peace and contentment.

With a sigh, he removed his hand from the door. Since there was no handle, Doyle made an assumption that he just had to push it open. With every ounce or pound of strength that he got. He leaned against the door on his back, and tried to push it open, only it didn't budge a centimeter. He tried again, and he could feel movement under his feet. What was behind him slipped slightly further out from under him. Doyle decided to take a short break as he wiped off the sweat that beaded his forehead with the back of his hand. He turned around, and once he saw the accomplishment he had done, he grinned a cocky grin.

After finding out that the back-to-the-door way didn't work that much, Doyle decided to push it open with his shoulder. He leaned against the door again, preparing to shove it open in a single movement when he saw something move.

He whipped his head around to where he had saw movement. Nothing was there, but Doyle couldn't be too sure about that. He stood straight, and tried to look strong and tough just in case it was that Lindsey character from the night before.

Doyle didn't have a watch. He couldn't check the time. But if his internal clock were built right, it would say that it was time for bed. He stifled a yawn and looked back at the door that had moved half a centimeter. Doyle decided to save his accomplishment for tomorrow night instead, and headed toward the door that led to the hallway.

Four pairs of hand grabbed him suddenly, each on both shoulder. They restrained him. Doyle was caught unaware and shouted out loudly, "Hey!" He desperately hoped someone had heard him

Another pair of hands came down in front of his eyes; covering them tightly that Doyle couldn't see a single thing except for the red, pulsing muscle of the two hands. They were gruesome, and Doyle wished he were blind.

The more he struggled, the more his feet seemed to be glued to the floor. He couldn't move, he couldn't struggle and fight, and, worst of all to him, he couldn't even breathe anymore.

It seemed, to Doyle, that the hands that covered his eyes were now around his throat, choking him slightly that he couldn't yell another shout for help again. From the hands that covered his eyes tightly, and the hands that now covered his throat, black spots began dancing where the door should've been, until the bright world that he had known plummeted to darkness.

Doyle fell to the ground from lack of oxygen, and something sharp, but blunt, hit his head. The hands were removed from his throat, the hands from his shoulders, and he fell flat to the ground in defeat.

The only noise that he could hear was a chant in a demonic language before he passed out.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 11**_

His head was pounding, like an avalanche of rocks were falling on top of his head and he couldn't break free. His hands felt numb and cold, and he could hardly move his legs. Even a fidget to try to situate himself in a comfortable position was worthless; something was holding him together.

The black void that filled his vision was blurry at first. Gray, blurry figures moved around in front of him. Constantly, they moved into his vision, out of his vision. He counted about two, maybe even three. It was hard to see.

Then there were the haunting voices that froze the blood in his veins. One was speaking English; one was speaking a demonic language. He was able to smell smoke that seemed like it targeted him to make him cough.

His vision slowly got better, and he was able to see a bit clearer like someone had just removed a screen from a window. Everything was getting clear, and he could see. At least, he was able to see the figures, but not the area he was in.

Doyle sat up straighter, which caused his hands to ache and numb even more than before. He gasped slightly, and tried to look behind his back at what was causing his hands to be numb.

Rope. Tight, black rope held his hands together. His feet were also drawn together by the rope.

The demon that was speaking English came into his view. It looked disgusting; as Doyle tried not to stare at the horrible black or red, what looked like muscle, figure. Of course, it wasn't muscle. _The Scourge. _Doyle knew what classification of demon it was, but he couldn't figure out how he knew. The demon that was chanting in the demonic language also came into view, and Doyle saw that it was the same demon. The demon stopped chanting long after the one speaking English had.

"It's awake. Quick, go tell the others," the demon that previously spoke the demonic language said to the other demon. The other demon nodded curtly, and quickly walked off, its long, black robes flowing behind him like a deep, black river. The demon that was left stared at Doyle. Doyle, in turn, stared at the ground. "So, you're back."

Doyle didn't know what the demon meant. He continued to stare at the ground, ignoring the demon, and ignoring the smoke that gnawed at his insides, making the same bile taste return.

"My brother warned me about you. He said you had died in the light. But here you are…alive. Disgusting demon halfling," the demon added bitterly.

The smoke that filled Doyle's lungs was smoke from a small bowl with undistinguishable markings carved on it. Doyle guessed that it was a spell the demon had been chanting, and this bowl with the stuff inside was the ingredient.

"Where is that other half demon? My brother said there were two, but here is only one. Where is the other?"

Doyle didn't answer. He didn't want to answer.

"Answer me!" the demon shouted.

_Okay, someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed this morning, _Doyle thought.

The demon was muttering something under his breath. Doyle couldn't make out the words, but he flinched as something sharp raked his right cheek. It stung like hell, and Doyle tried to bring a hand up to check what had happened, but he remembered that his hands were tied together.

Something warm slowly traveled down the right side of his face, and he wiped it off on his shoulder. He could see, from the corner of his eye, a large red spot on his brown leather jacket.

_Great. There goes my only jacket, _Doyle thought disappointingly.

He glimpsed at the demon. The demon had a hand with long, sharp claws, raised.

"Is that your final answer?"

"Answer?" Doyle forced a chuckle as he quickly tried to remember what the demon said. _Something about another demon…demon what? A halfling? Half demon? _"No, it's not my final answer. My final answer is…a, I'd like the get the hell out of here."

The demon's eyes turned a darker shade of red, and he raised his hand above his head, preparing to bring it down upon Doyle.

"Wait!" Doyle shouted, and the demon stopped in its tracks. "What do I win?"

"What?" the demon questioned. It looked perplexed.

"You know, one thousand dollars, a million dollars? Maybe even a free trip out of here?"

The demon growled a menacing low growl, and brought his hand sweeping down on Doyle, pushing him violently to the side.

Doyle, being in a chair and being tied up, was unable to do anything to stop his fall. He went down hard, his head connecting to a piece of concrete that made his vision blurry once again. His right cheek stung, and he knew gravel was probably in the wound.

"Damn it. I knew I should've picked the choice to go to the Caribbean," Doyle muttered under his breath. He could see the demon come closer to him, and Doyle braced himself for the worst.

A/N: Poor Doyle (again). (That was actually hard for me to write, as I don't deal well with writing scenes where a favorite character of mine gets hurt.) Anyway, I'll try to update again, sooner than last time, because it's winter break and school doesn't start until a week from now.


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay, that's it, I'm going to make a schedule; I'll try to update this story daily, like every Saturday or Sunday type of daily. Anyway, because of the lack of Lindsey in the previous chapters, this one is filled with lots of Lindsey. That's the good news; the bad news is that it doesn't have Doyle. But don't worry; chapter 13 will have Doyle in it.

Restless Hero: Chapter 12 

It was morning.

Angel knew that he should feel grateful that it was, in fact, morning. He was able to sleep through the night without growing restless over Doyle or Cordelia again.

His stomach growled as he reached his hand into the refrigerator that was randomly placed in his tiny. He had placed a mug of blood in the refrigerator the night before in order to ensure a quick breakfast. Once he retrieved the mug, he then sniffed the blood, and, making sure it was still fresh, set it in the microwave, set the timer to a minute, and pressed start.

The clothes that he had fallen asleep in the night before clung to him, and he could suddenly feel the humidity around him rise. His air conditioning didn't work, so he decided to turn on a small portable white fan that sat on the table by his bed.

The fan did the work to give off some air to cool Angel down enough so he was able to sit on the black leather chair and rest his feet, his body, and most of all, his mind.

The microwave beeped. With a sigh, Angel reluctantly stood up and walked to the microwave. He opened it up, and took out the mug, making sure that he closed the microwave door before retreating back to his leather chair. Being careful to not burn his tongue, he sipped the blood, and found that it tasted all right. Previously, possibly when Fred had told him about Frank being Doyle and brought that blood, his taste buds for that blood seemed a little bit off. But now they were back, and, in Angel's opinion, that was a good sign that things were looking up.

His alarm clock went off, giving a shrill sound of the alarm for a few seconds before it suddenly stopped. It was six o'clock in the morning. Angel once again rose, setting the empty mug down on the pearl tiled counter, making his way to the bathroom so he could take a shower.

* * *

It was seven o'clock. Eve woke him up at six in the morning, insisting that they had to go to Disneyland soon. Lindsey agreed reluctantly, and a bit drowsily, with Eve. He hadn't been out in the real world ever since he arrived at Wolfram and Hart, and that was at least two days ago if Lindsey was counting right.

Now Eve was getting ready. She always took long showers, which upset Lindsey for the most part. But since Eve was in the shower that morning, Lindsey decided to take a stroll to the room he had seen two days before.

As he grew closer to the door, he could feel the air around him thicken and grow hotter. He struggled to keep moving, and as he came to rest at the door, the air grew cooler. The heat suddenly disappeared, which at first seemed weird to Lindsey, but he shrugged it off, thinking that it was the damn electricians who had set up the air conditioning for the whole building. Lindsey reached for the handle, but as he touched it, he pulled his hand back away quickly.

"What the…?" Lindsey muttered, and he touched the door handle again softly. It burned beneath him.

All Lindsey could do was stare at the door, a slight grin forming on his face. He suddenly grasped the door handle as he tried to withstand the heat that burned beneath his hand. Then he turned the handle, doing all he could to open the door that seemed as if it were locked. Maybe it was just sticky. Or the humidity—_yeah, that could play a factor in doing something to wood. What was it? Expanding the wood or something? _He thought randomly.

With one hand pushing down on the handle, Lindsey tried to push the door open with his shoulder. _Probably it's just me_, Lindsey thought, but the air once again grew hotter, and the handle gave off such an immense burn that Lindsey gave off a sudden shout, letting go of the handle at once, backing away from the door.

He inspected his hand, which was now slightly red from the heat. It pained him to move his fingers, so instead he just reached for the handle with his other hand and this time, it wasn't hot. In fact, even though the air around him throbbed warm, the door handle was cool; not ice cold, but at room temperature. Lindsey took this as a sign, so he twisted the doorknob, pushing open the door.

He wasn't disappointed when the room turned out to hold only a few artifacts. Instead, he grinned, despite his slightly burnt hand and the fact that this room probably didn't hold the Pendant. Taking a few steps into the room, he viewed his surroundings. Some of the artifacts looked old. Some new and some just plain weird. But no matter the shape or size, all of these artifacts would enable Lindsey to earn some hard cash off the black market.

He browsed around for a minute, and already he picked out a prize possession to sell on the black market: a troll sized statue of what looked like an ancient demon. The word 'Pendant' was held in his mind as he continued to inspect the artifacts, casting an eye out for any circular object.

Suddenly, he came across one object atop an ancient mirror with red markings around it. It was circular, it was round, and it was faded bronze. It had looked like it had been broken recently and glued back together. With an evil grin, he pocketed it. Probably it wasn't the Pendant, but it didn't matter; at least he had found something that was worth taking.

* * *

He knew how to find the Senior Partner's. Ever since he came to work at Wolfram and Hart, in fact.

It was in an obscure place, and many clients and workers passed it without notice. Angel also passed it, and Eve, too. Lindsey didn't have the strength to tell Eve why he was back; only one excuse worked. He had gotten off on good behavior. Eve hardly believed the excuse at first, but then again, she probably didn't care at the time because Lindsey was back.

He reached the door. Feeling his pocket to make sure that the Pendant or whatever was still there, Lindsey masked a grin. The thought of earning more power made him feel like a kid at the zoo, or possibly like a kid at a See's candy store.

Pushing open the door, he inhaled sharply. A strong odor came at him, nearly making him gag.

It was quiet. Once he was in the Senior Partner's office, it was utterly quiet. The nervous guy he had previously met was gone. In his place was the suitcase, with something red like fruit punch stained on it. A premonition came over Lindsey, and he suddenly wanted to get out of the office and back to Wolfram and Hart. The door was closed, however, and Lindsey's premonition grew stronger as he neared the courtroom.

The scene in the courtroom was like a picture from a thriller movie. Blood everywhere, splattered everywhere, covering the walls in tall, wide strips, and covering the once polished and clean oak chairs with red substance that seeped into the wood.

Lindsey took in the scene not once, but three times. The first time he couldn't believe the scene before him, the second he wondered what had happened and whether or not it was a trick. The third time he had looked it became real and he panicked slightly.

"What the…" Lindsey trailed off as he saw the black robes that the two guys had worn. A dark red color stained the golden rope that had once been worn around their waist.

Something in him told him to get the hell out of the courtroom. He heeded that order, and moved to the double doors when two tall guys suddenly came into the room through the doors. Each wore what the two men of the Senior Partners had worn before they were killed: a black robe complete with a golden rope around their waist.

"Guys," Lindsey greeted dryly, backing up to the wall behind him. He didn't care if there was blood on the wall; he was frightened by the way the two guys loomed over him.

The two guys pulled down their hood, revealing their faces. Lindsey put on a brave face, and under his breath cursed at his stupidity of not heeding the warning of his premonition.

"Maybe we can talk about this?" Lindsey continued as the two demons glared at him. They started to move towards him, and Lindsey added: "Maybe over a cup of coffee, you know…"

The creatures grabbed him, but Lindsey didn't put up a fight. The blow to the head he received from one of the demons was enough to make him unconscious.

A/N: Now Lindsey's hurt. Poor Lindsey. By the way, sorry if the chapter is short. Hopefully as the story continues the chapters will get longer.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry for not updating the story in quite some time. School and real life both intervened to make my life super busy. But I'm back now, with a brand new chapter (with Doyle this time). Also, italics means not real, meaning dream sequence.

_**Restless Hero: Chapter 13**_

_The fog had lifted long before he had opened his eyes. Something warm covered him, like a wool blanket or something else. If he just hadn't agreed…_

_His eyes burned from the light, and the darkness was partly visible in the corner where a couple of demons waited for him. They stood up straight with their eyes wide open, much like soldiers in an army waiting for their sergeant. In the minute that he had stared at them, they never once had blinked._

_The warm sensation that was covering him was a long, flowing black coat, like the one Angel wore. He tugged at it, tried to pull it off, but his arms ached, and he wasn't ready to give it up just yet. Something cold tickled the back of his neck. He turned, finding steel that led up to the ceiling. Slowly, he managed to find the door to the cage, but it was locked with not one, but two locks._

_"You can't break them, you know," a nearby voice informed calmly._

_"Yeah? What's it to you?"_

_"I'm just telling, is all. It's not something to get picky about."_

_"Have you tried?"_

_"Once."_

_"They say three times is a charm."_

_"For me, it's more like two with a couple glasses of Guinness."_

_Lindsey turned around. There was another cage nearby his, and someone occupied this cage. He didn't have time to figure out where he knew this fellow. However, he knew his name. Maybe that was enough._

_"Where are we?" he asked._

_"Where? Well, I can't tell you exactly where, bud, but if you want to make with the heroism, you've gotta put on that jacket first," Doyle said, nodding to the black jacket that was resting at Lindsey's feet._

_"I thought I had this on," Lindsey muttered, picking the jacket back up. He slipped it on._

_"Not yet. But you will," Doyle promised._

_"What about you?"_

_"Me? Well, I fought once before and rested some. But now I feel like resting forever after I fight this again."_

_"Fight what?"_

_"Evil."_

_"Evil? I don't give a damn about evil."_

_"Better you than me."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You don't care whether you're half demon or something, but I do. It's just the fact that I'm not that gets me to worrying."_

_At least a minute passed before Doyle said again, "You know, you better put on that jacket sooner or later. They may need some extra help, and what better help than people who turn to help and fight? Because I won't be there to turn."_

_The demons that were then in the corner were now in front of Lindsey's cage. Once of them bent down and unlocked the two locks, pulled open the door, and reached for Lindsey._

_"Then where will you be if you won't turn?" Lindsey asked. It was strange. The demon's hand was right at him, but he couldn't feel it._

_"Me? I'll just be resting."

* * *

_

Lindsey woke up with something resting on his head. It was like some object of massive weight laid down on it, and he couldn't gather up the strength to sit up, or open his eyes. Somewhere, in the distance, he heard another gasp from someone. A garbled curse, and then someone was shouting "Hey!" at him.

It took nearly all his strength to sit up, but he managed the task. There was fog in front of Lindsey. His eyes were open but all he could see was fog. He blinked a couple of times, clearing his mind until a realization of what had happened suddenly came back to him. His head ached badly; even worse was the fact that the lights stung his eyes. He didn't want to even blink, in fear that he would die if he would.

"Hey!"

_There's that voice again… _"What?" Lindsey shouted gruffly. As his eyes slowly cleared, he saw that a ragged blanket lay on top of him. Something cold tickled his neck, and he felt behind him. _Oh shit…_he thought blankly. "Why am I in a cage?" he muttered to himself.

"Who're you?"

"Who am I? Who are you?" It hurt, but Lindsey slowly managed to turn his head to his left, where another cage sat a couple inches away from his. In the cage was a person. "Doyle?" Lindsey could hardly believe it.

"You?" Doyle merely said. He sounded surprised; Lindsey doubted that severely. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you _doing here?" Lindsey asked. "I had a dream about this and…" Lindsey paused, thinking the dream over before he said, "I was in here first."

"No, you weren't," Doyle defended. He was getting irritated with Lindsey, but he tried not to fit through the metal bars to kill the bastard. In his opinion, he'd rather starve in the cage than kill himself for trying to kill Lindsey. "I was in here first."

"No, you weren't," Lindsey replied, clearly aggravated also. "I know what I was doing and where I was before this. I came here first, you came second."

"I know I may be waving the white flag here, but can we please forget about who got here first and focus on the problem here?" Doyle pleaded. "I mean it may be the only chance for our survival."

"What do you mean by 'our'?" Lindsey questioned, now defensive. "The only survival here will be me, not you, not we. There is only me."

Doyle sighed, knowing distinctly that he wasn't going to win the fight. He lowered his eyes to the ground, and, now sitting back in the cage, held his head in his hands. There was a muttered curse, then a loud, "Now I know who you remind me of."

Lindsey, too, was sitting back in his cage, but instead of resting, he was looking in the shadows. "Who?" Even though talking wasn't on his high priority list to do at the moment, he had nothing else to do. His Playstation was back at Wolfram and Hart, and he had just misplaced his deck of cards the other day.

"Mr. Smith from _The Matrix Reloaded_," Doyle answered grimly. "So I guess I'm Neo."

Lindsey chuckled, turning to look at Doyle. "No, you're Mr. Smith, and I'm Neo."

"Not another argument."

"I didn't start it!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

There was a sudden curse, and then a shout throughout the room. "Quiet!"

The argument, as fast as it had begun, ended. Lindsey had no intention of starting it once more, so he just closed his mouth.

Doyle just muttered a thanks heavenward and sat back in the cage, glaring at Lindsey.

Two demons stepped from out of the shadows in the corner, just like Lindsey had dreamed. He glanced at Doyle quickly. Probably Doyle had dreamed it too, because he looked frightened. Lindsey wasn't sure, but he remembered what the Senior Partners guy had said…was it a week ago? Lindsey wasn't sure anymore, but he remembered that because he and Doyle shared the visions, they also shared dreams.

The two demons came near both of the cages. One on Doyle's side, one on Lindsey's side. Doyle braced himself when the demon took out a key from a pouch that hung on its hip. Slowly, it started to unlock the three locks that held the door where it was. Lindsey held his breath as his demon began to unlock the two locks on his door. As the first demon began to reach for Doyle, Lindsey said in a hushed voice, "Doyle, where are they taking us?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Doyle answered back bitterly. He was now out of his cage with his hands tied together behind his back.

Lindsey, deciding that it wasn't as worse as being stuck in a cage, allowed his demon to pull him out also. "Are you sure?" he asked as the demons now led them down a long, dark hallway. The rope that held his hands behind his back itched terribly. He waited patiently for Doyle's response, but none came.

A/N: I know that the dream sequence was weird, but for those of you who are interested in foreshadowing of characters, there's some foreshadowing in that dream sequence.

Also, I know that Doyle died in the series before _The Matrix Reloaded_ came out (for those of you who are wondering how he knows about the movie), so let's just say that he caught a rerun of the movie on TV while in the hospital at Wolfram and Hart.

Hopefully, if school doesn't keep me busy, I can update either tomorrow or Wednesday.


	15. Chapter 14

A/N: I know I haven't been updating this story as well as I should. Part of it is because of real life. There's too much on my plate to handle. The second thing is it's the story itself—there's writers block, first off; secondly, I'm trying to make it less confusing; and thirdly, I'm trying to finish the entire story itself before I post any new chapters. So it's really a combination of things at the moment. But I'll have you know that I'm still interested in this story and in continuing it; I just have a lot of stuff to deal with in life.

_**Chapter 14**_

Angel sat at his desk, lost in thoughts. It was near eleven o'clock, and he felt as if a tow truck had run over him. The pounding in his head ached terribly and Angel desperately wished for aspirin or scotch. He heard the door to his office open, yet he couldn't bring himself to look up to who had entered until Harmony spoke.

"Boss, the agents are wondering if they could speak to you again," she informed.

Angel finally did look up, eyebrows raised before lowering his head and closing his eyes, rubbing his temple to ease the pain in his head before muttering in a monotone voice, "Send them in."

He let a few seconds pass before he opened his eyes and when he did the agents were standing in front of the desk.

Annoyed at the agents and annoyed at the pain in his head that wouldn't go away, he asked bitterly, "What are you doing in here this time?"

Like before, one of the four agents stepped forward. And, like before, he wore the same outfit, like the two FBI agents Angel had seen in _The X-Files_. This thought was what made Angel worry. Worry about a possible future where the government would know about demons and vampires and, most of all, Wolfram and Hart. He closed his eyes again, thinking about the whole subject of government conspiracies. Of course, he knew all about them. Wolfram and Hart had a large stack of files about government conspiracies in the basement and he read, or, rather, skimmed, through all the reports of aliens and shootings and whatnot. They even had a few reports on Area 51, which, from the reports, houses not alien space crafts, but demonical and magical weapons.

"Sir?"

_Sir…_Angel smirked, eyes still closed. Nobody had called him 'sir' in a long time.

"Sir?"

"Boss?"

_So it's boss now._

"Angel!"

That woke Angel up instantly. His eyes snapped open and he looked over his desk to the blonde vampire. Harmony was _in _his office. Angel didn't remember inviting her in, and the agents…Angel suddenly realized what the agents were in for.

He sat up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and patting down his jacket to rid any wrinkles. The agents and Harmony were looking at him, bewildered. "Harmony," Angel began, "get out of my office. Now," he added, and Harmony walked out quickly. Then he turned to the agents. "Sorry," he muttered. "Um…what was the question again?"

The agent, still slightly puzzled, asked again, "Sir, what should we do with the captives?"

It was Angel's turn to be puzzled as he repeated rather lamely, "Captives?"

"Yes, sir, the captives. We captured them. Both were attempting to steal the Pendant."

"Good…good…you captured them, that's good…" Angel trailed off, the word 'captive' still ringing in his ears.

"What should we do with them?"

"I don't know. Do whatever you like with them, but let me see them first," Angel added. He didn't know why he had said that. Maybe it was the fact that he felt it better to say a final good-bye to them. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt sympathy for them. Either one, he felt it was a good excuse to get out of his office and away from Harmony.

"Yes, sir," the agent replied before walking out with his 'friends' on his heel.

Angel was finally alone, allowing him to slump back down into his chair, picking up a pen on the desk and tapping it against the wood. For once in his life, he desperately wished for work. And again in his life, he thought of the Powers That Be and how they always had work for Angel. Constantly.

After the four long years of struggling with every mission the Powers sent him on, he would have assumed that working at Wolfram and Hart would be simplicity. It would have been a vacation for Angel; for him, it would have been relaxation. However, the amount of relaxation he had further increased the nagging voice in his head. Something was wrong. He knew that since he started working. And after each case that would come his way, the voice would increase in volume until he felt like staking himself.

But he hadn't. And, no matter what, he still had an ominous feeling. A feeling that something was coming his way and that he wouldn't be able to stop it even if the Powers were at his side.

_You're not working for the Powers That Be anymore, _he reminded himself again. _You're working for Wolfram and Hart. The Senior Partners. The devils you had known since you came to LA, Angel, and now you're working with them, not just for them. _

He was sure the agents weren't far up ahead. Angel managed to jump from his desk without knocking the chair down to the ground. He then ran out of the office into the lobby. _Damn it, _he thought. The agents were nowhere in sight. _So much for my intuition_, he thought as he said, "Harmony."

Harmony looked up from the beauty magazine she was flipping through. "What's up, boss?"

"Have you seen the agents? Where they went?"

Harmony took out her gum she was chewing on, and threw it in the wastebasket under her desk. "Yeah," she answered blatantly. "They went that way." She pointed down the hallway to her right.

"Thanks."

Angel took off, running down the hallway with all the speed he could muster, and he finally saw the agents turn a corner.

He ran faster and he turned around that same corner the agents had turned at. However, they were no where to be seen. Angel paused in his tracks, aghast as to where the agents could have gone. He turned around, looking over his shoulders, making sure that the agents weren't waiting for him with knives poised for attack. After a minute, Angel finally walked up to a closed door, yanking it open in frustration.

It was the Artifacts room. Angel walked in, letting the door slam behind him. He took another step forward, as if he feared the room was tripped with wire that, if breached, would send flames toward him. Dismissing that thought quickly, he walked toward the back of the room, seeing a faint outline of a door without a handle embedded into the wall.

The nagging voice in his head that had once been so quiet and soft turned into a cacophony of yells and shouts. It wanted him to turn around and return to his office. However, Angel ignored the voice. He pressed a hand to the wall and the section of the wall surrounded by the faint black line slid open to the left, revealing a long, dark passageway. For once in his life since he had come to Wolfram and Hart, the nagging voice disappeared. With a sigh, he stepped into the passageway, the light from the room penetrating the darkness of the hidden hallway. However, as soon as the door _whooshed _back to its place, all light that Angel depended on had gone, and he suddenly felt very alone.

* * *

After a series of twists and turns, Angel came to a circular room, the walls and floor made of dirt. _Of course,_ he thought_, there always has to be a room that's carved from dirt._ Instead of overhead lights in the room, there were flames that burned brightly on the white tip of candles. Large torches covered portions of the walls. The room was also filled with an aroma that made the air in the room thick. Angel looked around the circular room, puzzled as to where he should go from there, for there were three separate ways leading from the room: the one that he had just came from and two on either side of him. He looked down at the floor, eyeing the footprints in the dirt. Some were large, some small. The two sets of prints Angel believed belonged to the captives. With his eyes set on the prints, he began to follow the trail. 

The footprints led him down a long, dark corridor, much like the hallway he faced earlier when he came through that door. _It's a wonder the agents can live in this dark, dank place_, Angel thought. If it was a place. Because the door in the Artifacts room was enchanted, the place could be a dimension instead. Angel made a vow to look up information on dimensions and whatnot after he returned to his office.

The corridor, in turn, led to another corridor. Instead of blank walls and no lights, there were lights on the ceiling, guiding whoever might walk right down the middle of the aisle. There were also cages on either side of him. As Angel walked, he observed the cages, and came to a conclusion that these were cages for prison. Suddenly, the idea of being trapped in prison didn't feel good to him, as he remembered the time he was held in a prison-like entrapment four years back. Sure, there were a couple of nasty demons, but there were stories about people being in prison. Angel stopped thinking about it and instead moved to the door that was located at the end of the corridor. He rapped on it a couple of times before it finally opened, revealing a face belonging to one of the agents.

The agent smiled. "Hello, Angel," the agent greeted in a crooning manner. "Please, would you come in?"

Angel nodded, and walked in. The agent was right behind him, and he closed the door. Angel was sure he heard the agent lock the door. "So what's this I hear about the captives?" he asked right away. "Where are they?"

"Yes, the captives. Angel, please sit down," the agent informed, waving to the empty chair in the corner of the office.

Angel sat, rather reluctantly. He wanted to see the captives—no, not wanted—he was eager to see them.

"The captives—we have found—are extremely hostile. Angel, I'm sure—"

"Angel? Why are you calling me Angel?"

"Well, we aren't in the office anymore, are we? Your office? So since we're in my office in my…place, I think it formal that I should call you Angel. And you, in turn, may call me 'sir'," the agent explained hastily.

"Okay," Angel muttered, and added quickly, "sir."

"As I said before—"

"I know what you said before. The captives are hostile, blah, blah, blah—just show me them," Angel said menacingly. He wanted to let out his vampire counterpart and kill the guy, but he'd have to settle for threats instead.

The agent sighed, and Angel knew that the agent didn't have a choice. "Very well," he said bitterly, rising from his desk and moving to the door behind him. He held a key in hand, unlocking the door. "Come on."

Angel also stood, following the agent into the next room.


	16. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

"I still doubt that you would want to see the captives, but it is your decision," the agent continued as he flipped the light switch. Once he did that, dim light filled the room.

"Where are they?" Angel asked perplexingly. The dim light hardly did any justice to light the room, and the vampire found himself squinting just to see the floor of the room.

"They are there," the agent said as he pointed to the two dark corners of the room.

Angel mused about why they were in the corner, but shrugged it off as strolled toward the first corner. What he saw surprised him.

"Doyle?"

Doyle looked up from his cards. He knew he had stuffed a packet in his jacket pocket earlier in the week, but hadn't taken it out until now. The thought of telling Lindsey earlier dispersed, and he had decided to play solitaire alone while waiting for another demon to come for him.

It took him a while. Even still he couldn't recognize the person who was standing outside his cage—he had changed.

"Oh god, Doyle." Angel's throat constricted as he gazed at his friend from so long ago. He could see the injuries he had sustained and the pain that was in his eyes. "What happened?"

Doyle shrugged. "Beats me." It hurt him to shrug. When the demon had pushed him to the floor earlier, it had injured his shoulder. His cheek still stung from the nasty scratch, and his vision still seemed a little blurry around the edges.

"Doyle…" Angel looked at Doyle closely, still doubting that he was alive, that he was actually talking to him. He still remembered how he had died, the way he had died—_no! _Angel dismissed the memory.

And as he looked upon his friend, the pain of losing Cordelia came back to him. "I'm sorry," Angel managed to say. It was hard.

"Ah, forget about it, Angel. It's all forgiven" was what Doyle wanted to say. He had rejected the random memories at first, waving them off as if they were some sort of dream. When he had been sleeping earlier, the memories came at him again, filling him with new information that he had never known: his life, the people in it—Harry, Cordelia, his family, Angel—the people around it, and most of all, the fact that he had once been half-demon. Half-Brachen demon, half-human. There had been a sudden hatred at his mother for never telling him earlier before he had married Harry, sudden hatred at his father for being demon. Everything new to Doyle filled him with anger, hatred, disappointment, and, most of all, despondency.

Instead, all Doyle said was, "Sorry for what?"

"Everything…for not saving your life mostly. I should've jumped, not you," Angel added dismally.

"But I'm alive, aren't I? You should be happy, Angel, not miserably down in the dumps," Doyle added, briefly flashing his trademark grin.

"I…should…but Doyle—"

"Where's Cordy?" Doyle suddenly asked. The happy-go-lucky grin had faded, and a grim look crept its way into his dim green eyes.

Angel opened his mouth to answer. He wanted to answer. But the urge to just cry from the sight of seeing his friend overwhelmed him, and he just turned away from Doyle, walking over to the other corner of the room where he saw Lindsey.

"Angel!" Lindsey remarked, a grin coming to his face. He didn't care about the past and what he had done to Angel. He didn't care about the fact that Angel was probably (undoubtedly) mad at him. Just the sight of Angel filled Lindsey with hope that everything would turn out all right.

However, Angel just stared at him, a dangerous look in his dark eyes. Lindsey's grin faded at this dark look.

"Okay, look, I know what I did was wrong," Lindsey began. "I know that impersonating your friend was wrong and I—I—Angel, if you let me go, I swear to you I will change. I will," he added with a slight grin. "Just let me go—let me out of this cage—and I'll prove it to you."

"Angel," the agent called to him, "it's time to go."

Angel nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Lindsey to slump against the bars of the cage in defeat.

* * *

"What are you going to do with them?" 

The agent shrugged. "Kill them," he answered simply.

"What? Why?"

"It was your orders, sir."

"What orders?" Angel asked. When the agent didn't answer, Angel let his vampire side come out, his teeth sharpening, his forehead doing that weird thing that always happened when he let the vampire come out. "Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way? Release them."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that."

"Release them," Angel growled, his tongue brushing over his sharp canines.

The agent didn't answer, but instead looked at his golden wristwatch. "They'll both be dead by sunrise tomorrow. Sir, if you could please leave."

"I won't," Angel contradicted.

The agent sighed, looking past Angel and said exasperatingly, "Guys."

Three demons walked in, grabbing Angel and hauling him out the door. Angel struggled, but try as he might, he couldn't remove the demons' massive grip on him.

* * *

He was lying face down on the carpet in the hallway when Wesley walked by. Instead of walking on like Angel had hoped, Wesley crouched down beside him and as he helped him up, asked, "Angel, what on earth happened?" 

Angel's face was normal, and he shrugged Wesley's hand off his shoulder. "I don't want to talk," he said curtly, and walked back to his office.

Wesley sighed, following his friend.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" he asked hopefully. "Because I'm always here to listen."

"I'm sure, Wesley," Angel said as he opened a drawer of his desk. As he put a large stack of legal papers in it, he added, "I'm positive."

Wesley sighed again. The fresh cup of coffee recently brewed suddenly didn't seem too inviting to drink now as he looked down at his cup. Defeated, Wesley stood, walking to the doors. "Of course. I understand, Angel," he said before exiting.

Now Angel sighed. He hadn't meant to hurt Wesley's feelings. The sight of seeing Doyle in that cage left Angel feeling mystified. One part of him was feeling glad that Doyle was back. The other part was angry with him, while the third (and Angel didn't know where it was coming from) felt guilty. In addition to his various feelings, Angel felt slightly nauseous, and the world kept spinning around in circles continuously.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to break something and just let his feelings pour out. His first thought was to find Spike and release his feelings on him, but he felt it wrong to do that. The second thought was to drive around a while in his car (and then he remembered that Spike told him that his car had been broken into.)

His confusion was getting the better of him. Why was Doyle back? Who sent him back? Is he human; is he demon? Why is he back?

_So many questions, _Angel thought.

His third thought consisted of the Oracles, although Angel had no idea on what to ask them. They were killed by the demon that Lindsey had unleashed four years ago. _The same that had left Cordelia suffering from visions._ The screams still echoed in his mind.

_And the same that nearly killed Wesley._

Angel suddenly felt guilty for letting those incidents happen; after Doyle's death, he had vowed to not let anyone else close to him die.

But now he was.

_Okay, so Lindsey doesn't count in my 'People Who I Can't Let Die' book, but he is important to somebody…I think…_

Angel wasn't sure of anything anymore. Everything was happening so fast that Angel wasn't sure if the Powers That Be had left their remote control on fast forward. He needed pause; he needed stop or rewind. Anything but fast-forward.

It was resolved. Angel would go to the Oracles and ask the Powers That Be for answers to his perplexing questions. At least they would be able to give some answers that he desperately needed at the moment.


	17. Chapter 16

A/N: I am so sorry for not updating as much as I had promised; a lot went on (mostly school and writer's block) that inhibited me from writing as much as I wanted to. But now it's summer, so I can write as much as I want to. Anyway, hopefully this chapter makes up for it all.

_**Chapter 16**_

Angel hadn't forgotten how to reach the Oracles. With a katana in hand (to give to the Oracles as an offering), Angel lit the altar, beseeching access to the knowing ones.

As the arc in front of him lit up with a warm light, he suddenly realized that giving the katana to them hardly seemed like a good idea. They were incorporeal, after all. Why give them a katana for defense if they could hardly hold it anymore? But there was a more pressing matter on Angel's mind and, resolved to know about Doyle's return, stepped through the arc.

"What do you want, champion?" the voice of the Sister floated down on him, like she was in every corner of the room. Angel held the katana out from his body; it rested on the palm of his hand and it glowed in the warm light that radiated from everywhere in the room.

"I brought an offering," he notified.

A few feet away the Brother and the Sister appeared, each of them translucent.

"A katana," the Sister said warmly. She grinned, her eyes shining with excitement. "I've always wanted one." She reached out a hand, as if hoping to take it, but, being translucent and all, her hand slid through the katana and Angel's hand. With a disappointed look, the Sister added, "You brought it in spirit. If I were able, I would take it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Angel said, embarrassed at the fact that the Sister could not take the offering. He brought the katana down to his side.

"What do you wish to know?" the Brother snapped bitterly.

"Doyle," Angel started. "Why is he back?"

"You came here for Doyle?" The Brother questioned, and scoffed. "You always come here for him."

"That's because he is my friend," Angel defended, now angry.

"He is a warrior for our side," the Sister said.

"Not a champion like you, but just as important," the Brother added.

"Yes, I know all that. What I want to know is why is he back. Why is Doyle back now?" Angel asked impatiently.

The Brother and the Sister glanced at each other quickly before turning away again. "Many years ago," the Sister began tentatively, "there was a war. This war brought much grief, and despair. During the war, the Senior Partners stole the Pendant from our grasp, and now we are unable to move between realms. We are stuck here, forever—"

"They don't need the cliff notes, Sister," the Brother snapped impatiently. "Many years ago there was a war between the Senior Partners and the higher powers. Now understand this: in mortal terms, this war happened four years ago. In immortal terms the war seemed as if it had just happened yesterday."

"Time moves quicker here, right?" Angel agreed. The Brother nodded, an angry look filling his eyes as he continued.

"It was desperate times; our side was getting slaughtered literally by the demons and whatnot the Senior Partners sent. We were without a doctor, so we had to bring in the half-immortal, the half-Oracle, Kyra."

"How was she half-Oracle?" Angel asked.

The Brother sighed in frustration, yet the Sister answered patiently, "Her mother was banished from our world. After she was banished, she was sent upon Earth to live among the mortals. Her powers were still intact, yet she couldn't enter our world with the mark she bore."

"The mark any Oracle who is banished from our world is branded with," the Brother explained to Angel.

"So she went and married a common mortal man," the Sister continued as if she didn't hear the Brother. "Shortly after Kyra's birth, Tabitha, Kyra's mother, fled the family. It was unknown as to where she went or why she left."

"Then about twenty or so years afterwards there was a war between the higher powers and the Senior Partners," the Brother said.

"You mean those—"

"Who we work for?" the Sister interrupted. "Yes, champion. That is correct."

"Why?" Angel asked.

"Because they could. Because they wanted to. Because they felt like it. Take your pick. We still do not know why," the Brother commented bitterly.

"The war was costly for us as well as the Senior Partners," the Sister said gently, sparing a glance at the Brother. "We lost so many men. The higher powers were wrong in sending us to fight the men and demons the Senior Partners sent. But they had confidence in us. After all, we did have the Pendant."

"Which was probably the reason why the Senior Partners waged war on us," the Brother added. "There was a time when the Senior Partners once worked for the higher powers. But then they got too greedy; they wanted more power; they wanted to rule."

"So the higher powers banished them to the underworld. It was there where they could manage to scrape together a few minions, whether it be humans or demons."

"What about the Pendant?" Angel asked impatiently.

"On one evening during the war, Kyra had discovered the Pendant had been stolen. The men guarding the Pendant had all been slaughtered by an unknown assailant," the Sister said.

"All we know is that none of the men from the Senior Partners had taken it. None can enter our realm unless they are of this world," the Brother said.

"So you guys think Kyra's mother stole it?" Angel asked. "She stole it and gave it to the Senior Partners?" He remembered the mark Kyra's mother had and quickly amended, "Or she used someone, an outsider to give it to the Senior Partners?"

"Well, it can't have been Kyra. Though her mother was banished, Kyra herself was very loyal to us; she would never steal the Pendant from us," the Sister defended.

"You don't know that, Sister. She very well may have stolen it, right under our noses, and you're blind to that fact. You're blind to the nature of mortals, that they can turn evil at will."

"I assure you, Brother, that Kyra had no chance of stealing it. In case you forgot, no mortal can touch the Pendant. Kyra was mortal. She could not have possibly stolen it. We can only conclude that Tabitha was working for the Senior Partners at that time."

"You're blind to the fact, Sister," the Brother repeated a conceited tone. "And may I remind you—"

"Guys!" Angel interrupted. "The Pendant?"

The Sister turned to look at Angel, grinning sheepishly, although it seemed rather forced and painful. "We have told you all you need to know about the Pendant, vampire."

"Not everything. What does it do?"

The Sister sighed, reluctant to answer. The Brother then answered, "It brings time to our world. In case you haven't noticed, there's no time here"—the Brother motioned to a large overhanging clock behind Angel. Angel turned to see the clock; it was broken, the hour hand missing—"the Pendant once powered the clock until it was stolen. Now we're frozen in this world. Time doesn't exist here anymore.

"It also brings power."

"You see," the Sister began, ignoring the seething look the Brother gave her, "we once had power far unimaginable by the Senior Partners. It was granted to us by the Pendant the higher powers had given us. But now our powers are gone. This world—our world—can be attacked. We can no longer protect the gateway to the higher powers."

"Which means that demons and other underworld minions of the Senior Partners can walk right into our world and attack the higher powers," the Brother added.

"Lastly, the Pendant brought immortality. But because it was stolen, our immortality was stripped away from us."

"Which was why the demon Lindsey summoned was able to kill you," Angel said.

"Precisely," the Sister answered with a melancholy grin. "And that is why we sent our—your—warrior to retrieve the Pendant from the Senior Partners."

"You think the Senior Partners have it?" Angel queried.

"Yes," the Brother said slowly, confusion masking his face. "Why is it that you ask?"

"But they don't have it. The agents do. Why else would the Senior Partners have sent Lindsey? They thought you have it but you don't. The agents do."

"Agents," the Sister repeated faintly and then, as if she were humoring Angel, added, "And what agents might these be?"

"The agents—they said they have the Pendant. They told me specifically. They have Doyle and he'll be dead by sunrise unless I do something to save him. Which is why I came to you—you need to help him. If not for the fact that he's my friend, then help him because he's your only link to the Pendant."

"I'm sorry, vampire, but we cannot help mortals," the Sister said.

"We cannot interfere with what has happened," the Brother said.

"We brought Doyle back for the sole reason that he retrieve the Pendant."

"And he has failed us, did he not, Sister?" The Sister nodded, and the Brother grinned. "We cannot change the past. What's done is done."

"Remember when you had asked to be a vampire again?"

Angel did remember. He remembered well what they had said at that time. But he didn't care. "Help me save him," Angel repeated. "He's my friend."

"I'm sorry, vampire, but we cannot. We absolutely cannot," the Sister vehemently repeated, although Angel could see translucent tears slowly slide down her cheeks.

A minute of absolute silence passed before Angel said, "Thanks anyway" and left, the katana still in his hand.


	18. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

The sky was black from the smoke that rose up into the heavens; the sun barely shone through the dark clouds and, when it did, gave off a distinct red light, dimmed marginally by the ash that constantly fell upon the ground, a ground tainted by the remains of a war that had once took place many years ago. There were a few buildings that were left standing long after the war, remains of a past long gone, but those buildings were crumbling, crippled from age.

Lightning crackled from the sky suddenly, shooting sparks down to the ashen ground. No rain appeared, however, as the lightning continued to crackle. To one, the hopes of rain were futile, and they instinctively knew that this wasn't, in fact, lightning. It was the portal that connected their world to the other world where humans roamed and ruled; someone was coming.

The sparks continued to shoot downward straight into the ground; soon fire rose up, forming a circle in the ground. In the middle of the circle appeared three agents in black suits. After the fire and the sparks settled down, the agents took one step forward, suddenly vanishing into the thick gray smoke that cloaked the town.

Then they appeared, the agents, in another dimension. This dimension showed little promise of being a cleaner than the other, for the streets were lined with litter on both sides. Blood formed in the shape of irregular pools, and skeletons lied open to the toxic air. Lone buildings seemed as if they were stripped down and rebuilt rather quickly; rubble lay at the base of each building marking the time when a war had occurred. Smoke hung in the air, blocking whatever light was supposed to shine upon the musty city.

The one building that remained standing, unmarred by age and destruction, was a white dome-shaped building the agents entered into.

The entrance hall was as white as the exterior walls; it was large and spacious, yet there was barely anything to mark signs of existence. The walls, also gleaming white under the lights, were bare, stripped of everything that was a reminder of the past. There were large, swooping white staircases to either side of the agents that led upstairs. A looming chandelier hung from the ceiling by a thick chain that had grown rusty over the years; similarly, the chandelier itself was tarnished, the gold having faded over the years to a dull gray.

The agents walked across the entrance hall to the other side of the room and then through another set of double white doors.

"And what do you have to tell me?" A woman demanded. She sat in a large golden throne that seemed as if it were too big for her; it seemed to swallow her, the blood red velvet matching perfectly with her equally red dress. A demon stood next to the throne, hands clasped behind its back as if it were a soldier awaiting orders.

The agents gazed upon the ground, avoiding eye contact. "We found them stealing the Pendant. We locked them in a cage and—"

"Worthless. What I want to know is will you kill them?"

"We've scheduled a beheading tomorrow morning on the mortal planet, ma'am. They will be beheaded and, their remains to be burned and charred, their ash will then be spread among our planet at your feet."

"Excellent. You may leave," the woman demanded.

"Yes, Glorificus."

As the agents turned to leave, the woman suddenly said, "Tell me. Do you have my Pendant?"

The agents turned back around, facing Glory. One agent nodded rather stiffly, replying at once, "Yes, we do have the Pendant at this moment, Glorificus."

Glory smiled sweetly at the agents. "Sweetie," she crooned, acknowledging the burly demon that stood next to her obediently, never taking her eyes off the agent. "Kill him. And make sure you deliver the Pendant exactly to me."

The demon growled in acknowledgment as is stalked over to the agent, who began to morph into a demon himself. However, during the transformation, the demon punched the agent, sending the agent crashing to the floor with a loud resounding thud. As the demon kicked the agent in the gut, the other agents started to move away cautiously toward the doors to leave.

"Excuse me, boys," Glory called out, her eyes now locked on the other two agents. "I don't believe I excused you yet."

"No, you didn't, Glorificus," one agent commented after a brief moment. Gone was the monotone, obedient voice and in its place was a voice filled with fear. Glory smiled at this voice. The agent averted his eyes from hers and he gazed at the ground; the other followed suit. The demon, having finally killed the agent and retrieved the Pendant, handed it to Glory. She took it from the demon and, while she fingered it, said, "Go to the Kingdom of Illyria. Make them repay for what they did to us and make it sweet."

"Yes, Glorificus," the agents replied in union and they turned to leave the room.


	19. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

Doyle woke with a gasp, the dream disappearing in a flash as the pain from the other day started to make itself known. As the final images of the dream faded from his mind, Doyle realized just how much pain he was actually in, and he stifled a groan, thinking longingly on the thought of freedom.

"Hey. What's up?"

Doyle managed to turn his head despite the kink in his neck, looking at Lindsey across the room. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Well, I have insomnia. Anyway, what's up with you?"

Doyle shrugged, grimacing as the pain in his shoulder flared. "Bad dream," he finally said as he massaged the back of his neck.

"No kidding?"

"Why?" Doyle asked, narrowing his eyes, trying to see Lindsey better in the dim light.

"Well, the floor's hell to sleep on—I barely even managed to dream, let alone fall asleep."

"I'm sort of a sound sleeper, maybe," Doyle said, grinning to himself. Truthfully, it had been hard to get a wink of sleep, but somehow he had managed—and he regretted it. The images of the dream flashed in his mind every time he closed his eyes and he wished they would disappear.

"Do you remember your life before now?"

It was an odd question. Doyle hesitated before answering, but then finally said, "Every minute of it."

"What was it like?"

"What, have we run out of conversational topics that we're turning to learning about each other's lives now?"

Lindsey shrugged, smiling. "Maybe. I mean we can't really talk about the weather, can we?"

"True."

"So what was it like? Your life?"

Doyle closed his eyes, but instead of the images of the dream haunting him, he saw his life—he saw Cordelia and Angel; he saw Harry the day he married her looking spectacular and striking; he saw his mother and father; he saw the blood slowly dripping from the bodies of the half-Brachen demons he had failed to save. He opened his eyes, the last image disappearing in a flash, only to see Lindsey staring expectedly across the room at him. Doyle shrugged.

"So?"

"It was like a fairy tale," Doyle began. "You have your ordinary damsel in distress, the strong and brave hero who rescues her, and his untimely demise."

"Fairy tale, huh?"

Doyle nodded.

"Sounds like a pretty crappy fairy tale if it ends badly."

"Yeah, well, yours can't be any better now, could it?"

Lindsey nodded as well as he said, "You've got a point there."

The door suddenly rattled, startling both Doyle and Lindsey.

"What was that?" Lindsey asked, casting a worried glance to Doyle, who shrugged as he answered, "I don't know."

Both got their answer, however, when the door swung open, hitting the adjacent wall with a loud bang, much like a gunshot. Doyle could barely see the face of the demon in the dim light; all he could see was its red eyes that glared menacingly in the darkness.

"I thought I told you to shut up," the demon growled, stalking toward Doyle.

Doyle braced himself for what would happen next.

* * *

"How did it go with the Oracles?"

Angel didn't answer immediately; instead, he sighed, running a hand down his face as he tried to gather all the information the Oracles had told him.

"Fine, Wes."

"What they say?" he asked, following on Angel's heals as Angel walked across the lobby to his office. Angel turned before entering his office.

"Tell everyone to come to my office; we're going to have a meeting." With that, he entered the office, slamming the door, leaving Wesley to stare at the brown oak door that, while particularly shiny, left him with confusion at his friend's sudden state of abruptness. However, he didn't think about it, as he walked to find Lorne, Gunn, Fred, and Spike.

* * *

In half an hour all of Angel's friends were in the office, each one looking interested at hearing what Angel would say. _Well, _Angel thought as he spotted a bored looking Spike sitting in one of the velvet red armchairs, _almost everyone. _

"I'm pretty sure you all know why we're gathered here today," Angel began rather hesitantly. He looked at the faces of his friends, gathering confidence that these friends wouldn't let him down even in his hour of need. "Or maybe you don't. In any case, I won't bore you with many details, but I will say this one thing: Doyle is alive. I saw him, and I'm sorry, Wesley, if I didn't tell you before." Wesley nodded, acknowledging the apology. "I was…I was confused at that time," Angel continued, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't know what was happening anymore. It was…it was surreal, and it was a shock.

"I also learned why Doyle is back. The Powers That Be brought him back for a mission to retrieve their Pendant, which they believed had been stolen by the Senior Partners.

"However, the Senior Partners brought Lindsey back to also go on the same mission; they assumed the Powers That Be had the Pendant. But these two enemies don't; another dimension, another enemy or ally or whatever, currently has it. And I believe they are the ones who are holding Doyle and Lindsey captive and if we don't save them, they'll be dead by sunrise. And if we don't retrieve the Pendant, all hell will break loose.

"Now for all of you wondering why the Pendant is so important is that it brings power and immortality. I mean, it's highly favored by the underworld and the higher world. Any demons would be greedy enough to get their hands on it, as well as a few humans."

"And as I understand the Pendant also brings time. It's the very essence of time, basically. When you have the Pendant you have the power and time; you can essentially control time. I—I've done some reading about it," Wesley added sheepishly as Angel looked at him with a mix of confusion and happiness.

"That's good. That's—that's right, Wesley."

"Which was why the Oracles were killed by the demon about four years back; they didn't have the Pendant at that time."

"That's what I gathered as well. It was lost once. But now we know where it is. We have to get it back and we have to save both Doyle and Lindsey."


	20. Chapter 19

**_Chapter 19_**

"Hey, what you doing?" Gunn asked as he strolled into Wesley's office.

"Researching the Pendant. There could be more to it than what Angel or I know; there could be something…anything…"

"Any luck?"

Wesley looked up, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, his hair disheveled, and his eyes nearly red. "Gunn," he greeted in a monotone voice, as if Gunn had just walked into the room at that particular second and not a second before. Suddenly he slammed close the book he was reading, throwing it to the side of the desk atop other books that had been discarded carelessly.

"I think I can safely assume no, then," Gunn said, grinning slightly as he moved toward a chair with books resting on it. "Can I…?" he asked as he pointed to the books. At Wesley's nod, he tipped the chair sideways and watched as all the books slid off, clambering to the floor with a loud thump, and then proudly sat in the chair. "What you've got so far, though?"

"Nothing," Wesley responded with a sigh as he removed his glasses from he face. He brushed a hand through his hair, making it more disheveled, if possible, and stood, stretching his arms as he said, "The Pendant is rarely known in the demon world, it seems. It is only known throughout the higher world. And all mentions of it in the books seem to just be references of it when talking about the war between the higher world and the Senior Partners."

"Higher?"

"You know, the higher world. It consists of universes—worlds, groups, to say the better—far greater than, say, Pylea. It's a world in which in the universes of great power are located, such as the Powers That Be or…or the Senior Partners, possibly," Wesley said.

"So we're not going good?" Gunn asked, directing the attention back to the Pendant.

Wesley shook his head. "I'm afraid not.

"However," Wesley started, his mood improving slightly, "I did run across some fairly new information that I hardly even knew of. It was very diffcult to find, mind you. It was near invisible, like a footnote in…which book was it again?"

"Wesley! Forget the book and make tell with the details," Gunn said, almost grinning.

Wesley nodded, stopping himself from searching through the pile of books and continued, "Apparently groups in the higher world can move amongst themselves. They can visit other higher worlds, other worlds within the higher world. The only groups that cannot penetrate the higher world are the ones belonging to the demon world—which is sometimes commonly known as the underworld."

"Hey, maybe that's how the Pendant was stolen! Maybe one of the groups belonging to the higher world strolled to the place where the Oracles are and just stole the Pendant out from under their noses!"

"I'm afraid not, Gunn. It's about impossible to steal the Pendant even when you are another group in the higher world. Unless…as I recall from my readings there are specific demons that can change their appearance at will. What if they stole the Pendant? Or someone was controlling them to steal the Pendant. It all makes sense, Gunn."

"Really? Because I'm not seeing the big picture—I thought you said demons can't enter the higher world."

"They can't, but there are a select few demon groups belonging to the higher world that can change their appearance."

"So we narrow it down," Gunn started, the grin widening into a broad smile. "And once we do—"

"We can find the demons and the Pendant," Wesley finished, now smiling himself.

"Good thinking," Angel commented as he walked into the office. "But I have a better plan."

"And what sort of plan would that be?" Wesley asked, sitting back down in the chair.

"I learned, from talking to the Oracles, that someone had been banished from their world. Her name was Tabitha; she used to be an Oracle. And though she couldn't enter the higher world anymore, maybe she convinced a race of demons to steal the Pendant for her. So I'm thinking what if she didn't act alone? What if she was an agent and she works for someone else who wanted the Pendant? I mean it all makes sense."

"Yes," Wesley said slowly, brows furrowed as he thought it through. "It does."

"And, like you said, there are a few race of demons belonging to the higher world that can shape shift. All we need to do is narrow it down and we can find Tabitha."

"Won't it be harder than it sounds?" Gunn asked.

"It always is," Angel answered with a lopsided grin.

"So that's the plan? We find the race of demons and Tabitha?" Wesley said.

"Basically," Angel said.

"But what about the Pendant and saving Doyle?" Gunn asked.

"Don't worry. I have it all worked out, Gunn," Angel replied confidently.

"This is all well, Angel, and I hate to rain down on your parade but I see one flaw in the plan," Wesley said.

"And what's that?"

"Well, how do we even know that Tabitha has the Pendant? If she is, like you said, an agent for a higher power, then I feel we should target her—well, her kind—more than the race of demons. Besides, it's very well possible that the race of demons could either be extinct or…or they could be unwilling to answer to our needs.

"We need to find the Pendant, right? Then why not just target the agents whom you had previously seen? If we find them, then we should find who they work for and, ultimately, we will find the Pendant, all the while saving Doyle and Lindsey in the process," Wesley finished.

"But if we do target just the agents then they'll know what we're on to and they'll kill Doyle," Angel retorted.

"Yeah. I mean, wouldn't it be better if we find Tabitha alone? Then that way she wouldn't go blabber to the other agents and tell them we're onto them," Gunn said.

"And you don't have to save Doyle and Lindsey yourself—you can send Spike to do that," Wesley added.

Angel nodded, acknowledging Wesley's idea. "Good point. All right. Gunn, gather everyone up."

"Again? Didn't we already hear a speech?"

"Yes, again," Angel said, rather curtly than he had intended, but he knew what had to be done. "We need everyone involved. I do not want Doyle, or Lindsey for that matter, to die just because they were roped into getting the Pendant for the Oracles or the Senior Partners."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Angel," Wesley began, hesitating before continuing, "but what if we can't save Doyle and Lindsey?"

"We'll save them. I'm sure about that."

* * *

Angel looked at his friends who were gathered, once again, in his office. "I know you're wondering why you're back here in my office again," Angel began, slightly hesitant to speak. "And I can answer that. I have a plan."

Both Gunn and Wesley coughed sheepishly, both grinning as Angel grinned back at them slightly. "All right, Gunn, Wesley, and I—we have a plan. And it'll probably take all day, maybe even all night—in fact, I don't know how long—but it will be worth it because I know that in the end Doyle will be safe. Lindsey will be safe. And those bastards will be gone.

"Before this plan goes forward I need to make a couple of things clear first. There was this Oracle who was banished; she goes by the name of Tabitha and we—that is, Gunn, Wesley, and I—believe her to have helped steal the Pendant from the Oracles. We also believe, under the circumstances, that she may be an agent and that she may work for the one who has the Pendant now.

"If we can track her down, we can track down who she works for, get the Pendant back before something undoubtedly disastrous happens, all the while rescuing Doyle and Lindsey. And if this plan should go off without a hitch then…well, it does."

"And if it doesn't?"

Angel grimaced at Spike's nonchalant tone, as if Spike didn't care about Doyle, Lindsey, and the Pendant, which Angel suspected was rather true. "Listen, Spike, you keep up this attitude then I guarantee that you won't see the happy ending."

"What happy ending?" Spike queried, raising his eyebrows, clearly enjoying teasing Angel in this time of torment. "Free lunch at McDonald's or something?"

"I don't know, Spike. It could be possible, I mean. Does working as a fry cook appeal you in any way?"

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again, knowing full well that pissing off Angel even more wouldn't get him anywhere except possibly beaten to death.

"That's better." Angel focused his attention to the rest of his friends. "So the plan. Wesley and I will track Tabitha down, talk to her, you know—maybe see if we can't find out who she works for."

"And it that doesn't work?" Fred asked.

"Well, then we'll just try another source.

"Gunn, is it possible you can try to contact the Senior Partners? Maybe ask them a few questions about the Pendant? Possibly get more information should my contact fail?"

Gunn nodded as he said, "Gotcha."

"Lorne and Fred, you stay here. I need you guys free once Spike does his job. Plus, if Eve ever gets curious—"

"Don't worry, Angelcakes. I'll stray her way for an hour or two, make her watch _The Sound of Music_ or _Mary Poppins_," Lorne said, smiling jubilantly.

"And what's my job?" Spike drawled.

Angel smirked. After all, Spike jumping on the bandwagon to insist knowing his job wasn't something Angel saw every day, including in the past. "I'm giving you the hardest job of all, Spike. You're going to rescue Doyle and Lindsey. And after you do that, and after Wes and I get the Pendant, then we can go to the guy who set up this entire ordeal, kill him—"

"Or her," Fred offered, grinning slightly.

"Him or her, and everything will be set right once more." Angel looked around at his friends and felt, for a fleeting second, proud that he had friends whom he could rely on. "Everybody knows what to do?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Let's go to work."

A/N: Remember, Angel doesn't know that the Senior Partners are dead. Just in case anyone realized, "Hey, the Senior Partners are dead! Shouldn't Angel know that?"


End file.
